The 

Promise  of  the  Christ-Age 
in  Recent  Literature 


William  Eugene  Mosher 


'BRARY 


OF 


DIEGO 


c* 

YO 


ARCANE  SCHOOL 

LEXINGTON  AVENUE 
ROOM  2419 
NEW  YORK 


THIS    BOOK     IS     THE     PROPER  iY 


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The 

Promise  of  the  Christ- Age 
in  Recent  Literature 


By 

William  Eugene  Mosher,  Ph.D. 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 
New  York  and  London 
fmfcfterbocher  press 
1912 


COPYRIGHT,  igia 

BY 

WILLIAM  EUGENE  MOSHER 


TTbe  fmicfeerbocfecr  pre08,  Wew  l?ork 


PREFACE 

THE  purpose  of  the  accompanying  investigation 
is  to  call  attention  to  the  general,  practically 
international,  interest  in  the  Christ  figure  and  the 
message  of  Christ,  as  indicated  in  the  writings  of 
certain  novelists  and  dramatists  of  note.  The 
prominence  of  the  authors,  the  popularity  of  the 
works  treated,  as  well  as  the  simultaneity  of  the 
publication  of  the  latter,  have  seemed  to  warrant 
a  consideration  of  these  recent  writings,  as  presa- 
ging a  pronounced  religious  trend  in  the  cultural 
development  of  the  immediate  future.  It  is  very 
significant  that  such  unanimity  of  interest  should 
prevail  among  the  leading  authors  of  various 
countries,  when  otherwise  general  confusion  reigns 
as  to  moral  and  religious  standards.  In  this 
connection,  it  seems  appropriate  to  lay  particular 
stress  upon  the  interpretive  and  prophetic  function 
of  literature  as  its  prime  heritage  of  the  past. 
These  two  or  three  considerations  form  the  justifi- 
cation of  the  title:  The  Promise  of  the  Christ- Age 
in  Recent  Literature. 

In  an  appendix  are  grouped  the  titles  of  fifteen 
to  twenty  other  novels  and  dramas  by  representa- 
tive authors  of  various  countries,  which  serve  to 
make  the  position  assumed  even  more  tenable. 


iv  Preface 

The  individual  works  denoted  in  the  following 
table  of  contents,  have  been  treated  in  some  detail 
with  reference  to  the  main  theme — Christ  or  the 
Christ  regenerate — on  the  ground  that  foreign 
works  are  not  usually  accessible  to  the  average 
American  reader.  Such  treatment  has  further- 
more afforded  opportunity  to  point  out  how  the 
most  varied  and  wide-spread  movements  of  our 
day  align  themselves  with  respect  to  the  personality 
of  Christ. 

W.  E.  M. 

OBERUN,  OHIO,  January,  1912. 


CONTENTS 

PAG* 

INTRODUCTION       ......         i 

FRENSSEN'S  "  HILLIGENLEI  "          ...      28 
LAGERLOF'S  "ANTI-CHRIST"  ...      38 

SUDERMANN'S  "JOHN"  ....       53 

ROSTAND'S  "  THE  SAMARITAN  WOMAN  "  .         .64 
WIDMANN'S  "  THE  SAINT  AND  THE  ANIMALS  "      73 
ANDREYEV'S  "  JUDAS  ISCARIOT  AND  THE  OTHERS"      83 
KENNEDY'S   "THE  SERVANT  IN  THE  HOUSE"      97 
FOGAZZARO'S  "THE  SAINT"  .         .         .         .108 

PONTOPPIDAN'S  "THE  PROMISED  LAND"         .     122 

HAUPTMANN'S  "  THE  FOOL  IN  CHRIST,  EMANUEL 

QUINT" 134 

CONCLUSION          .         .         .         .        .         .170 

APPENDIX     .......     174 


The  Promise   of  the   Christ- 
Age  in  Recent  Literature 


INTRODUCTION 

IN  all  periods  of  transition  there  are  naturally 
two  predominant  tendencies;  the  one  is  called 
rejection  and  its  path  is  marked  by  unseemly 
ruins;  'the  other  is  called  assertion  and  its  way 
is  marked  by  the  most  manifold  and  varied 
structures  imaginable.  The  impression  made  by 
either  or  both  is  that  of  a  chaos. 

Such  a  condition  prevails  in  many  fields  of 
human  activity  to-day.  For  instance,  reference 
might  be  made  to  the  effects  of  the  application  of 
scientific  standards.  Under  the  caption  ' 'Effi- 
ciency,"  the  scientific  spirit  has  thrown  the  indus- 
trial and  technical  world,  and,  to  some  degree,  the 
educational,  also,  into  a  state  of  confusion  and 
discord. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  changes  that  are  being 
caused  by  the  awakening  sense  of  social  justice, 
are  not  less  evident.  This  spirit  has  made  itself 
felt  in  the  fields  of  national,  state,  and  civic 

i 


2  Introduction 

legislation  to  such  an  extent  that  no  one  can  safely 
predict  what  the  outcome  of  the  present  recon- 
struction, or,  perhaps  better,  fermentation  period, 
will  be. 

The  process  of  reviewing  and  recasting  the  outer 
world  and  established  institutions  with  regard  to 
scientific  and  social  standards  has  been  accom- 
panied by  a  movement  in  the  inner  world  of  per- 
sonality that  is  equally  worthy  of  note,  as  being 
characteristic  of  the  transitional  effect  of  the  time 
in  which  we  live.  The  sense  of  personal  independ- 
ence, of  moral  autonomy,  and  subsequent  worth 
has  led  to  a  personality-cult,  that  has  probably 
not  been  so  wide-spread  and  far-reaching  in  its 
results  since  the  time  of  the  Greeks.  A  feuille- 
tonist in  a  prominent  German  paper  describes 
this  personality-cult  as  a  mad  "culture  chase," 
partaking  of  the  nature  of  a  contagious  epidemic. 
It  leads  often  to  a  "sterile  self -absorption  "  and  is 
likely  to  degenerate  into  an  artificial  and  unedify- 
ing  aestheticism.  These  two  tendencies,  the  one 
outward,  the  other  inward,  have  been  fruitful  of 
untold  beneficent  results,  the  latter  arousing  and 
quickening  many  an  individual  to  a  sense  of 
personal  responsibility  and  worth  that  has  in  turn 
incited  to  intensive  development  and  growth;  and 
the  former  having  made  possible  innumerable 
economic,  social,  and  educational  reforms  which, 
taken  together,  go  to  make  up  what  may  be  called 
modern  progress. 

In  spite  of  the  sense  of  satisfaction  that  naturally 


Introduction  3 

accompanies  successful  achievement  of  any  kind; 
in  spite  of  more  economic  standards  of  production 
and  more  effective  education;  in  spite  of  anti- 
tuberculosis  campaigns,  new  legislation  as  to 
child-labour,  and  tenement  conditions;  in  spite, 
finally,  of  the  more  and  more  general  appreciation 
of  Botticelli  and  Browning,  of  Nietzsche  and  Bern- 
ard Shaw,  the  spirit  of  inner  restlessness  and  in- 
definable dissatisfaction  is  gradually  becoming  so 
pronounced  that  this,  too,  may  be  considered  a 
characteristic  sign  of  our  time.  Rudolf  Eucken, 
the  German  philosopher,  who  has  diagnosed  many 
phases  of  life  and  thought  in  convincing  formulas, 
recently  expressed  the  following  summary  judg- 
ment:— "We  have  gained  a  world  and  we  have 
lost  the  soul."  That  is  to  say,  that  we  are  in- 
creasingly successful  in  the  struggle  for  existence 
but  we  fail  to  see  the  ultimate  purpose  of  the 
struggle;  that  we  doubt  the  value  of  life.  We 
wish  some  assurance  that  the  results  already 
attained  or  considered  as  attainable  will  endure 
and  propagate  themselves. 

Science, — so  long  the  self-sufficing  and  all- 
sufficing  oracle  of  the  nineteenth-century  man — 
knows  not  the  "soul "  of  the  world  it  has  so  bravely 
helped  to  conquer.  It  knows  only  that  this 
world  will  not  endure,  that  the  time  will  come 
when  men  and  all  of  the  institutions  of  men  will 
pass  away  into  the  night. 

It  has  come  about  thus  gradually  that  the  "wise, 
the  wearily  wise  earth,"  has  begun  to  listen 


4  Introduction 

beyond  the  hubbub  of  our  much  activity  to  the 
questions  of  that  small  voice  that  so  persistently 
whispers,  "whither"  and  "why."  These  ques- 
tions are,  indeed,  coming  to  compete  so  seriously 
with  the  problems  of  the  "world  of  things"  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  "personality-cult"  on  the 
other,  that  one  may  reasonably  speak  of  a  third 
prominent  tendency  of  modern  life — that  of 
religion,  for  religion  has  to  do  with  the  "soul"  of 
the  world,  the  "whither"  and  "why"  of  the 
seeking  questioner. 

It  will  not  seem  strange  that  even  science  has 
been  enlisted  in  the  service  of  this  third  tendency— 
and  strikingly  so  in  the  past  two  decades, — not 
for  the  purpose  of  answering  the  questions  but 
only  to  affirm  their  presence  and  persistency. 
The  ethnographer  points  to  the  barbaric  tribes, 
the  psychologist  to  growing  children,  the  physiolo- 
gist to  the  mentally  deranged,  in  order  to  prove 
that  religion  is  one  of  the  basic  possessions  of  the 
human  spirit.  Furthermore,  the  historian  traces 
the  line  fluctuating  in  the  development  of  past 
civilisations  between  religion  and  irreligion,  ar- 
riving finally  at  the  conclusion  that  religion  has, 
on  the  whole,  been  the  predominating  tendency. 

Not  alone  in  the  world  of  theory,  but  also  in 
that  of  fact,  the  trend  toward  religious  faith  is 
evident.  Brief  reference  to  the  conclusions  of 
three  representative  men  may  suffice  to  denote 
this.  The  French  critic,  Jean  Dornis,  refers  to 
the  desire  for  simple  faith  as  being  strikingly  appar- 


Introduction  5 

ent  in  the  literature  of  the  end  of  the  nineteenth 
and  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  century.  The 
American  philosopher,  William  James,  has  called 
attention  to  the  wave  of  religious  activity  now 
passing  over  the  American  world.  Finally,  Ernst 
Troeltsch,  the  German  theologian,  notes  that 
religious  values  are  again  on  the  point  of  rising 
in  the  pendulum  motion  of  modern  spiritual  life. 
But,  granted  the  wide-spread  desire  for  religious 
truths  and  values,  what  concrete  results  has  it 
brought  forth?  Have  we  a  religion  that  has 
discovered  the  "soul"  of  the  world  to  the  satis- 
faction of  the  modern  seeker?  The  questioner  in 
the  Christian  era  would  naturally  turn  first  to 
examine  that  institution  whose  function  it  has 
been  to  conserve  and  propagate  religious  doctrine, 
the  Christian  Church.  The  scientific  spirit  of 
things  seems  to  have  wrought  even  worse  havoc 
here  than  in  other  fields  to  which  it  has  turned. 
The  spirit  of  unanimity  has  fled — unclear,  con- 
fused, complex,  contradictory,  the  issues  are 
debated  and  discussed.  Both  orthodox  and  liberal 
theologians  seek  to  adjust  the  results  of  historical 
research  and  literary  criticism  to  the  knowledge 
and  philosophy  of  our  day,  as  well  as  to  the  tradi- 
tional tenets  of  the  Church.  To  indicate  how 
varied  the  efforts  are,  one  has  but  to  glance  through 
the  periodical  literature  and  book-reviews,  where 
one  reads  of  a  bookless,  a  creedless,  a  "  dogmaless, " 
a  "  miracleless, "  even  a  churchless  Christianity. 
A  college  professor  in  a  recent  meeting  of  the 


6  Introduction 

Religious  Education  Association  averred  that 
Christianity  itself  had  no  clear  conception  of 
the  ideal  it  is  propagating,  that  this  ideal  is  com- 
pounded of  irreconcilable  elements. 

With  regard  to  modernising  the  Church,  as  an 
institution,  the  utmost  diversity  of  opinion  likewise 
obtains,  ranging  from  the  "Free  Church,"  whose 
tenets  should  be  always  open  to  general  discussion 
and  consequent  restatement,  through  the  range  of 
State  Church,  Municipal  Church,  Peoples'  Church, 
International  Church,  to  that  of  the  No  Church  of 
the  Social  Democrats.  Thus,  within  the  world  of 
organised  religion — that  world  where  one  first 
seeks  a  positive,  unequivocal  statement  as  to  the 
why  and  whither  of  life — there  is  a  restless  and 
manifold  reaching  out  for  some  clear  and  con- 
vincing formulation  of  the  main  issues  of  life. 

There  is  even  greater  activity  and  confusion  in 
the  secular  world  as  to  the  philosophy  of  life — 
"Weltanschauung" — that  in  its  very  nature  must 
positively  include  religion  or  equally  positively 
exclude  it.  The  presses  of  Christian  nations  are 
issuing  uninterruptedly  new  presentations  of  the 
"philosophy  of  life, "  or  the  "religion  of  the  future." 
Such  philosophies,  having  rejected  Christian  faith 
as  being  unscientific  and  consequently  unmodern, 
may  be  ranged  under  the  banners  of  Material- 
ism, Monism,  Pantheism,  Morality,  and  Humani- 
tarianism. 

On  the  one  hand,  crass  facts  and  gross  forces 
are  accepted  as  embodying  the  whole  truth,  as  in 


Introduction  7 

materialistic  philosophy;  or  the  intellect  entirely 
supplants  or  suppresses  the  other  functions  of 
man,  as  in  rationalism  and  kindred  doctrines. 
These  two  groups,  in  both  of  which  religious  con- 
siderations are  practically  excluded,  may  be  passed 
over  at  this  point  without  further  discussion.  Let 
us  turn,  rather,  to  the  second  main  division, 
which  assumes  that  man  is  more  than  matter  and 
more  than  intellect.  Reference  is  here  made  to 
Monism,  Pantheism,  and  particularly  to  certain 
practical  philosophies  of  a  marked  humanistic 
trend. 

Two  characteristic  tendencies  are  common  to 
the  majority  of  the  "  life-and- world-theories, " 
which  belong  properly  to  this  second  main  division. 
In  the  first  place,  one  finds  here  a  practical  con- 
firmation of  Sabatier's  assertion  that  man  is 
incurably  religious.  The  fact  of  a  divine  power  is 
accepted,  affirmed,  or  postulated,  but  usually 
there  is  a  strikingly  noticeable  hesitation  to  deter- 
mine the  nature  of  the  Divinity  in  any  way.  This 
is  particularly  evident  in  those  "philosophies" 
that  are  of  a  Pantheistic  character. 

A  German  investigator,  G.  Hilbert, x  in  dealing 
with  the  reviving  interest  in  religion  with  reference 
to  Christianity,  has  come  to  practically  the  same 
conclusion  as  that  just  outlined.  Mr.  Hilbert 
calls  attention  to  the  insistence  of  the  modern 
man  upon  unrestricted  intellectual  and  personal 

•Religiositat  und  der  Christusglaube,  die  Neue  Kirchliche  Zeit- 
schrift,  1910.  (S.  868). 


8  Introduction 

freedom.  By  virtue  of  the  former,  he  is  not  alone 
unwilling  to  ascribe  to  Christ  any  characteristics 
not  to  be  explained  through  the  process  of  evolu- 
tion, but  also  to  ascribe  to  God  any  definite  quali- 
ties whatever.  Because  of  his  sense  of  personal 
freedom,  he  even  denies  to  the  Divinity  any 
appreciable  power  and  authority  over  him.  Hil- 
bert  concludes  that  the  "religiosity"  of  the  hour — 
the  modern  man  is  a  God-seeker,  in  his  mind- 
is  entirely  subjective.  He  calls  this  subjective 
religion, "mood-religion"  (Stimmungsreligiori) ,  and 
feels  that  it  is  compatible  with  all  moral  and  even 
possibly  sensual  excesses,  since  it  lacks  content, 
purpose,  goal,  exercising  accordingly  no  formative 
influence  in  the  moral  sphere. 

Hilbert's  deductions  would  serve,  then,  to  sus- 
tain the  judgment  that  one  of  the  characteristics 
common  to  the  various  more  recent  "religions 
of  the  future"  is  an  evident  unwillingness  to  for- 
mulate, with  any  definiteness,  the  nature  and 
attributes  of  God.  Faust's  "confession  of  faith" 
to  the  solicitous  Gretchen  might  well  have  been 
put  in  the  mouth  of  the  representative  man  of 
to-day: 

Who  dare  express  Him? 

And  who  profess  Him? 

Saying :     I  believe  in  Him ! 

Who  feeling,  seeing, 

Deny  His  being, 

Saying :     I  believe  Him  not !  .  .  . 


Introduction  9 

Call  it,  then,  what  thou  wilt, — 

Call     it    Bliss!    Heart!    Love!    God! 

Feeling  is  all  in  all : 

The  name  is  sound  and  smoke 

Obscuring  Heaven's  clear  glow. 

BAYARD  TAYLOR 

Accepting,  then,  this  entire  indefiniteness  as  to 
the  relationship  between  God  and  man — surely 
the  fundament  of  any  religious  understanding  of 
life — as  the  first  main  tendency  of  the  religious 
interest  of  our  day,  we  turn  to  the  second,  that  is 
of  a  very  positive  nature.  It  occupies  a  prominent, 
if  not  predominant  place,  in  almost  all  of  the  isms 
and  religions  with  which  we  have  here  to  do.  I 
refer  to  the  humanitarian  movement,  which  has 
been  accentuated  in  certain  quarters  to  such  a 
degree  that  it  is  practically  a  religion  unto  itself. 
In  the  words  of  Dumas,  fils,  "Our  world  is  about  to 
realise  the  words  'Love  one  another'  without, 
however,  being  concerned  whether  a  man  or  God 
uttered  them."  Great  movements  arising  from 
widely  different  sources  attest  to  the  truth  of  this 
prophecy.  This  motive  furnishes  one  funda- 
mental animus,  for  instance,  of  such  organisations 
as  the  Social  Democracy  and  Christian  Socialism 
of  Western  Europe  and  the  United  States,  of  the 
Sillonists  in  France  and  the  Fabian  Society  in 
England,  of  the  Evangelical  Social  Congress  in 
France  and  Germany,  and  of  the  Ethical  Culture 
and  Social  Culture  Societies  of  various  countries. 

These    organisations    and    others,    as    widely 


io  Introduction 

different  as  those  just  mentioned,  are  united  in 
propagating  "fraternal  sympathy"  for  its  own 
sake.  It  seems  as  though  the  human  race,  as  once 
predicted  by  Lessing  in  the  sketch,  The  Education 
of  Mankind,  were  entering  upon  its  third  and 
final  stage,  where  men  will  work  good,  not  from 
fear  of  immediate  or  even  future  punishment  for 
evil  deeds,  nor  in  anticipation  of  immediate  or 
future  reward  for  good  deeds,  but  because  good  is, 
in  itself,  good,  and  evil  is  evil.  It  is  as  though  the 
novelist's  sigh  for  the  "superior  being,  ennobled 
by  the  worship  of  reason,  doing  good  without  hope 
of  reward,  sacrificing  everything  for  human 
solidarity,  that  man-God  who  would  glorify  the 
future!"  were  about  to  be  answered.1 

It  may  be  safely  asserted  that  the  Golden  Rule 
of  Jesus  Christ  was  never  more  consciously  and 
consistently  practised  than  in  the  present  age  of 
social  passion — for  it  is  this  which  binds  together 
no  inconsiderable  portion  of  mankind  to-day.  At 
the  same  time,  there  has  indubitably  never  been  a 
generation  that  has  called  itself  "Christian"  which 
has,  as  far  as  vital  contact  is  concerned,  so  com- 
pletely disassociated,  or  rather,  so  completely 
failed  to  associate,  the  teaching  of  the  Law  of  Love 
and  the  historical  Teacher  of  it.  The  various 


1  This  is  the  portrait  of  the  ideal  Socialist,  who  preaches  and 
teaches  and,  to  a  marked  degree,  lives  the  Golden  Rule,  while 
publicly  repudiating  the  organisation  which  takes  its  name  from 
the  formulator  of  it.  Vincent  Blasco  Ibanez,  The  Shadow  of  the 
Cathedral,  p.  336. 


Introduction  1 1 

social  agencies  referred  to  above  depend,  for  the 
most  part,  in  no  appreciable  degree  upon  the 
impelling  power  of  the  personality  of  the  Nazarene, 
although  they  have  in  many  essential  respects  a 
common  goal  with  Him. 

The  persistent  hammering  of  Biblical  criticism 
together  with  the  influence  of  our  modern  "enlight- 
enment" has  produced  the  result  that  countless 
adherents  of  the  Church,  as  well  as  also  the  rep- 
resentatives of  various  "philosophies,"  frankly 
deny  the  divine  origin  of  the  Teacher  and  of  the 
message  of  Brotherly  Love.  To  some  Christ 
has  become  simply  a  man  of  high  excellence  of 
character,  worthy  of  emulation;  to  others,  the 
rebel  leader  of  the  rising  proletariat,  the  fore- 
runner of  modern  social  reformers.  Others  are 
even  unwilling  to  concede  to  His  character  histori- 
cal truth,  claiming  a  mythological  origin  for  the 
reports  concerning  His  personality.  Even  the 
Christian  apologists  have  been  unable  to  present 
with  any  unanimity  a  convincing  solution  of  the 
so-called  "Jesus-Problem."1 

By  way  of  summary :  We  have  mentioned  the 
state  of  confusion  prevailing  in  the  Christian 
Church,  which  has  entailed  a  serious  loss  of  in- 
fluence among  large  bodies  of  its  adherents.  We 
have  referred  to  the  non-religious — in  some  cases 
anti-religious — tendencies  in  materialistic  and 
rationalistic  philosophies.  We  have  also  called 
attention  to  the  uncertain  and  indefinite  religious 

1  CJ.  p.  19,  note. 


12  Introduction 

element  in  recent  attempts  to  formulate  a  "philo- 
sophy of  life"  or  a  "religion  of  the  future";  on 
the  other  hand,  finally,  we  have  emphasised  the 
prominent  position  assigned  in  these  same  "  philo- 
sophies" to  the  teaching  of  the  love  of  man,  but — 
as  we  were  bound  to  add — this  teaching  no  longer 
seemed  to  find  its  inspiration  in  the  personality  of 
Jesus  Christ,  who  was  formerly  considered  to  be 
pre-eminently  the  inspired  Teacher  of  Brotherly 
Love. 

The  "religion  of  the  past"  was  founded  upon 
Christ.  The  "religion  of  the  future"  repudiates 
Him  and  seeks  for  some  acceptable  substitute. 
What  has  it  found?  Matter,  Law,  Reason,  the 
"All, "  the  "One, "  the  Love  of  Man.  Where  lies 
the  truth?  What  of  the  longed-for  synthesis  of 
life,  the  synthesis  which  is  to  unite  and  encompass 
the  earth  and  the  universe,  the  individual  and 
society,  Mankind  and  the  Divinity,  the  things 
physical  and  the  things  spiritual,  the  temporal 
and  the  eternal? 

It  would  be  presumptuous  for  any  but  the 
veriest  prophet  to  attempt  an  answer  to  these 
questions.  Although  the  calling  of  the  prophet 
seems  to  belong  to  the  early  history  of  the  race, 
are  there  not  still  those  among  the  children  of  men 
whose  vision  extends  beyond  the  immediate 
horizon  of  to-day,  who  perceive  behind  the  fleeting 
appearance  of  things,  values  that  endure,  an 
universal  harmony  that  is  all-pervading?  A 
French  author  (Morice)  claims,  indeed,  that  just 


Introduction  13 

this  is  the  function  of  the  poet:  "unceasingly  to 
recreate  mankind  according  to  the  law  of  universal 
harmony."  He  would  make  a  prophet  of  the 
poet,  one  born  to  meet  the  needs  and  demands  of 
his  own  time. 

Even  though  it  may  appear  that  the  authors 
of  our  day  and  generation  are  for  the  most  part 
rather  reflecting  and  reproducing  reality  than 
interpreting  it  prophetically,  in  the  light  of  their 
"vision  and  faculty  divine,"  the  latter  has  been 
their  peculiar  calling  in  the  past  and  it  will  remain 
thus  in  the  future.  Emerson  styles  the  true  artists, 
"the  organs  through  which  the  universal  mind 
acts,"  whose  works  have  as  "much  reason  for 
being  as  the  earth  and  sun."  Amos  and  Jesus 
were  alike  prophets  and  poets.  In  a  different 
manner  were  not  Homer  and  Sophocles,  Dante, 
Shakespeare,  Milton,  and  Goethe  also  poets 
endowed  with  prophetic  vision?  Were  they  not 
mediums  of  eternal  values,  seeing  the  really  vital 
element  in  life,  the  life  of  life,  discovering  its  purest 
form  and  highest  content  in  the  presence  of  that 
which  had  become  and  that  which  was  to  become? 
It  is  as  though  they  might  have  said  with  the 
prophet:  "God  spake  to  me;  thus  shalt  thou  do." 
It  is  in  line  with  this  thought  that  Matthew  Arnold 
predicted  the  coming  of  the  time  when  the  religion 
and  philosophy  of  our  day  will  be  replaced  by 
poetry. 

Assuming,  then,  that  the  poets  not  alone  read 
the  lines  "which  the  day  has  breathed  upon  the 


14  Introduction 

foreheads  of  the  nations,"  but  also  interpret  and 
illumine  these  lines  with  the  light  of  truth — the 
hypothesis  upon  which  the  investigation  is  based — 
we  are  moved  to  turn  to  the  master  novelists  and 
dramatists  of  our  day,  in  the  hope  that  they  may 
haply  point  out,  in  this  age  of  transition  and 
disintegration,  the  quarter  from  which  the  first 
rays  of  breaking  light  may  be  discerned. 

The  observing  reader  will  discover  in  the  litera- 
ture of  the  past  decade  or  two,  a  striving  after  a 
more  comprehensive  and  adequate  expression  of 
the  deeper  longings  and  aspirations  of  the  human 
spirit.  It  is  a  movement  that  reflects  one  trend  in 
the  " philosophies  of  life"  referred  to  above;  i.  e., 
an  uncertain  feeling  out  for  something  that  goes 
beyond  facts  and  things,  a  feeling  out  for  faith. 
In  recent  dramatic  literature,  the  most  striking 
exponent  of  this  desire  for  belief — as  supplement- 
ary to  knowledge — is  the  French  dramatist, 
Brieux,  who  has  made  the  theme  of  the  work, 
Faith  (La  Foi),  the  idea  that  any  faith  or  religion 
or  even  superstition  is  better  than  no  belief  at  all. 

It  will  hardly  be  necessary  to  cite  an  extensive 
series  of  representative  works  to  prove  that  this  is 
a  trend  characteristic  of  modern  literature. •  The 
reader  of  recent  dramas  and  novels  will  surely 
have  noticed  the  growing  interest  on  the  part  of 

*  Reference  may  be  made  to  two  of  the  most  important  plays 
of  the  past  season  in  France  and  Austria  and  Germany:  La 
Nouvelle  Idole  (The  New  Idol)  by  Henri  Davignon  and  Glaube  und 
Heimat  (Faith  and  Home)  by  Karl  Sch6nherr. 


Introduction  15 

writers  of  prominence  to  deal  with  problems  that 
are  not  narrowly  limited  to  the  "now"  and  the 
"here. "  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  this  turning 
toward  the  ultimate  experiences  of  life  is  very 
marked  in  the  literature  of  that  country  which  is 
supposed  to  be  the  stronghold  of  atheism,  France. 
A  French  critic, x  in  characterising  the  writings  of 
five  of  the  French  poets  of  the  last  quarter  of  the 
past  century,  refers  to  "that  breeze  of  religion 
which  breathed  from  the  earth  into  their  hearts 
to  the  end  that  they  have  known  God. " 

Let  us  turn  from  this  rather  general  trend, 
common  to  the  "philosophy  of  life"  as  well  as 
literature,  to  a  more  specific  and  concrete  tendency, 
that  is  pronounced  and  generally  apparent  only 
in  certain  fields  of  the  latter.  Herein  consists  the 
contribution  of  literature. 

Both  history  and  individual  experience  bear 
witness  to  the  fact  that  neither  abstract  laws  nor 
practical,  logical  truths  move  men  deeply  and 
enduringly,  but  only  definite,  concrete  personali- 
ties. Goethe  and  Carlyle  were  equally  convinced 
that  the  history  of  the  world  is  the  composite 
history  of  the  great  men  of  the  world.  Fogazzaro, 
the  Italian  novelist,  causes  one  of  his  characters  to 
voice  the  conviction,  "Science  and  religion  progress 
only  through  the  individual,  through  the  Messiah." 
It  is,  undoubtedly,  for  this  very  reason  that  the 
spirit  of  unrest  is  gradually  becoming  evident 

1  Jean  Dornis  in  La  Revue  des  deux  Mondes,  ler  Juillet,  1911. 


16  Introduction 

here  and  there  among  the  German  Social  Demo- 
crats, who  have  found  and  do  find  in  the  Marxian 
Gospel  of  Materialism  and  Brotherly  Love  their 
credo.  One  of  their  leaders  remarks,  in  discussing 
the  necessity  of  making  reference  to  the  matter  of 
religion  in  their  agitation,  that  there  are  many 
among  the  working  people  who  have  outgrown  the 
materialistic  philosophy  of  life  of  Karl  Marx  and 
are  beginning  to  struggle  for  a  new  one.  Are  the 
unschooled  Social  Democrats  coming  to  see  that 
they  cannot  find  lasting  inspiration  in  an  abstrac- 
tion ?  This  question  leads  to  the  more  general  one : 
Will  the  thinkers  and  philosophers  who  now  seek 
to  reconstruct  life,  succeed  in  evolving  the  "reli- 
gion of  the  future"  without  the  medium  of  a 
personality  who  has  or  will  have  convincingly 
demonstrated  in  his  own  life  wherein  the  value 
and  purpose  of  life  consists?  Will  they  see 
that  the  restlessly  active  modern  man,  in  spite 
of  all  enlightenment  and  progress,  does  need  a 
"Saviour?"1 

The  practical  philosopher  of  the  hour — as  has 
been  pointed  out — would  enlighten  without  the 
aid  of  a  personality.  Not  so  modern  literature. 
It  partly  consciously,  partly  unconsciously  meets 
the  questioning  of  our  time,  not  by  means  of 

1  "But  they  do  need  a  Saviour,"  is  the  conclusion  of  the  hero 
of  Jacob  Wassermann's  The  Jews  of  Zirndorf,  (Berlin,  1906). 
The  author  has  drawn  a  picture  of  typical  significance  for  modern 
times.  He  has  combined  in  his  hero  many  qualities  of  the 
enlightened,  progressive  and,  too,  the  unsuccessfully  seeking  man 
of  to-day. 


Introduction  17 

hypothesis  or  deduction,  but  through  the  direct  or 
indirect  portrayal  of  a  personality  of  deeply 
religious  significance,  that  of  Jesus  Christ.  It 
should  not  be  thought  that  literature  makes  this 
personality  the  basis  of  a  new  theological  creed  or 
code  of  morals  or  of  a  systematic  philosophy 
of  life.  The  personality  alone  suffices.  It  is  a 
program  unto  itself. 

When  one  casts  a  glance  through  the  works  of 
the  last  ten  to  fifteen  years  of  the  most  prominent 
and  representative  authors  of  various  European 
countries,  he  will  be  surprised  to  find  at  least  one 
work  that  has  bearing  upon  our  theme :  the  demand 
for  faith,  for  religion,  and  the  demand  for  a  per- 
sonal interpretation  of  this  faith.  It  would  seem 
as  though  literature  were  true  to  its  heritage  of  the 
past  and  were  assuming  the  cloak  of  prophecy.  It 
is  a  significant  coincidence  that  authors  of  various 
nationalities,  within  a  limited  period  of  time — 
seven  of  the  ten  works  to  be  considered  appeared 
within  a  period  of  six  years,  1905-1910 — have 
turned  to  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and  have  found  in 
Him  the  inspiration  for  a  work  that  has  in  each 
case  proven  to  be  a  signal  success;  in  some  cases, 
in  fact,  a  success  that  has  not  been  limited  to 
national  boundary  lines.  Reference  is  made  to 
Hauptmann,  Sudermann,  and  Frenssen,  of  Ger- 
many; Widmann  of  Switzerland;  Fogazzaro  of 
Italy;  Rostand  of  France;  Andreyev  of  Russia; 
Lagerlof  of  Sweden;  Kennedy  of  England;  and 
Pontoppidan  of  Denmark.  These  authors  have 


i8  Introduction 

portrayed,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  portions 
of  the  life  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  or  events  in  the 
lives  of  men  who  were  undeniably,  yes,  strikingly, 
inspired  of  His  spirit.  One  is  almost  impelled  to 
subscribe  to  the  assertion  of  the  French  critic,1 
that  the  re-discovery  of  the  figure  of  Christ  illu- 
mines all  of  contemporaneous  poetry. 

Just  as  within  the  Christian  Church,  in  Biblical 
research,  and  theological  discussion,  the  personality 
of  Jesus  Christ  is  gradually  displacing  and  over- 
shadowing all  others;  likewise  all  doctrine  and 
dogma,  creed  and  theory  are  being  recognised* 
as  subordinate  to  His  actual  life.  So  in  the 
secular  world  of  letters,  the  simple  figure  of  the 
Nazarene  has  recently  exerted  and  is  still  exerting 
an  influence  heretofore  unparalleled.  Purely 
belletristic  literature — and  particularly  in  drama- 
tic form — seems  to  be  overcoming  its  semi-heredi- 
tary shyness  with  regard  to  strictly  religious 
themes.  It  may  be  that  the  union  of  Art  and 
Religion  is  not  far  removed,  that  we  are  on  the 
threshold  of  the  period  anticipated  by  Matthew 
Arnold,  when  religious  dogma  itself  will  be 
transformed  into  poetry.  In  fact,  the  French 
critic  already  cited  confidently  predicts  that  the 
coming  generation  of  authors  of  his  country  will 

1  Jean  Dornis,  Le  sentiment  religieux  dans  la  poesie  frangaise 
contemporaine  (Revue  des  deux  Mondes,  ler  Juillet,  1911). 

3  Cf.  the  rapprochement  of  the  various  sects  in  the  movement 
for  Church  Unity,  and  in  the  Federation  of  the  Protestant  Churches 
of  America;  also  the  reports  of  the  World's  Congress  of  Free 
Christianity  and  Religious  Progress  (Berlin,  1910). 


Introduction  19 

attempt  to  make  faith  the  foundation  of  poetry. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  the  Rationalist,  the 
Moralist,  the  Materialistic  Socialist  will  urge  that 
the  avowed  interest  of  recent  representative  authors 
in  the  character  of  Jesus  does  not  necessarily 
presage  a  revival  of  religious  interest,  but  simply 
that  the  more  or  less  abstract  humanitarian  im- 
pulses of  the  hour  are  to  receive  added  momentum 
through  the  medium  of  a  commanding  personality. 
They  would  thus  recognise  one  of  the  enduring 
facts  referred  to  above,  i.  e.,  that  progress  in 
science  and  religion  is  conditioned  by  personal 
power.  Such  a  contention — that  Jesus  is  a 
personality  of  moral  but  not  of  religious  signifi- 
cance— would  seem  to  necessitate  a  discussion 
of  the  various  works  to  be  considered  from  this 
point  of  view,  with  the  purpose  ultimately  of 
attributing  only  secondary  importance  to  such  of 
the  writings  in  question  as  emphasise  the  humanity 
of  Jesus  rather  than  the  divinity,  as  portray  the 
Jesus  rather  than  the  Christ;  for  it  should  be 
recalled  that  we  are  treating  certain  literary  works 
as  emphasising  and  anticipating  the  specifically 
religious  trend  of  the  time.  It  is  not  my  purpose, 
however,  to  review  the  arguments  which  have 
been  advanced  in  the  controversy  concerning  the 
subtle  relationship  of  the  Jesus  to  the  Christ,  of 
the  Son  of  Man  to  the  Son  of  God,  nor  to  attempt 
in  any  way  to  throw  light  either  on  one  side  or  the 
other. '  I  shall  not  even  group  the  various  authors 

1  Cf.  the  supplement  to   the  Hibbert  Journal   (1909),  "Jesus 


2O  Introduction 

mentioned  with  regard  to  their  probable  attitude 
concerning  this  "school-question."  For  it  seems 
to  me  to  be  such.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  I  cannot 
in  any  measure  subscribe  to  the  statement  of  one 
of  the  most  outspoken  denouncers  of  the  so-called 
"Jesus-cult"  to  the  effect  that  "the  belief  in 
Jesus'  human  greatness  and  his  historical  import- 
ance has  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  religion.1"  On 
the  contrary,  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  historical 
report,  tradition,  and  personal  experience  will 
and  do  blend  in  the  heart  and  soul  of  the  individual, 
to  make  the  personality  of  the  Nazarene  carpen- 
ter and  teacher  a  source  of  religious  inspiration. 
Whatsoever  attributes  one  ascribes  to  Him,  he 
who  comes  with  serious  intent  into  contact  with 
even  the  baldest  presentation  of  the  life  of  Jesus, 
will  not  fail  to  see  how  His  life  and  teachings  are 
permeated  with  God-consciousness2;  and  God- 


or  Christ."  The  layman  is  forced  to  the  conclusion,  on  the 
basis  of  the  various  opinions  here  published,  that  the  theologians 
themselves  are  not  at  all  clear  as  to  the  distinction  involved. 
There  is  also  a  lack  of  unanimity  as  to  the  importance  of  making 
any  distinction  whatever. 

1  Der  moderne  Jesuskultus  von  W.  von  Schnehen,  S.  15. 
Freiburg. 

3  Cf.  the  scene  in  the  Temple,  where  the  twelve-year-old  Jesus  is 
filled  with  the  consciousness  of  his  "sonship";  He  being  the 
first  to  conceive  the  Divinity  as  the  "  Father  "  of  mankind.  From 
this  time  forth  He  considers  Himself  to  be  the  direct  medium  of 
the  Divine  Father.  "As  the  Father  gave  me  commandment, 
even  so  do  I."  "The  word  which  ye  hear  is  not  mine,  but  the 
Father's  who  sent  me."  Such  expressions  might  be  easily 
multiplied. 


Introduction  21 

consciousness  is  the  fundament  and  corner-stone 
of  religion.  He  constantly  lived,  as  some  one  has 
said,  as  though  in  the  immediate  presence  of  God. 

Accordingly,  I  would  conclude  that  the  novels 
and  dramas  based  upon  the  personality  and 
message  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth — even  when  miracles 
and  divine  origin  are  expressly  repudiated — have 
an  undeniable  religious  significance  and  tend  to 
meet  the  longing  of  our  day  for  a  more  vital  faith 
in  the  value  and  significance  of  life. 

The  principle  of  selection  of  the  works  to  be 
discussed  has  consistently  been  to  note  only  the 
writings  of  prominent  and  representative  authors 
and  such  as  have  enjoyed  popular  success.  The 
number  might  be  increased  indefinitely,  if  it  were 
desirable  to  catalogue  the  minor  or,  from  the 
standpoint  of  popularity,  unsuccessful  writings  of 
representative  authors,  as  well  as  the  countless 
dramas,  epics,  and  poems  of  less  influential  writers 
that  deal  with  the  character  of  Jesus. 

The  first  decade  of  the  present  century  is  not  to 
be  paralleled  in  the  modern  history  of  belles- 
lettres  with  regard  to  the  specifically  "Christ- 
ward"  religious  interest.1  In  fact,  the  prediction 
is  tenable,  on  the  basis  of  the  literature  of  the  past 
ten  or  fifteen  years,  that  the  twentieth  century 

1  For  the  purpose  of  indicating  that  the  practically  simultane- 
ous appearance  of  the  works  named,  is  not  due  to  some  chance 
coincidence,  but,  rather,  that  we  have  here  to  do  with  a  wide- 
spread and  deep-going  movement,  a  list  of  recent  dramas  and 
novels  is  added  in  the  appendix  that  belong  in  the  same  general 
category  as  those  selected  for  detailed  treatment. 


22  Introduction 

will  be  one  of  a  pre-eminently  religious  trend;  and 
also,  that  it  may  ultimately  bring  forth  that 
"Christ-novel"  or  "Christ-drama"  which,  in  a 
certain  measure,  will  be  for  modern  Christianity 
comparable  to  what  the  New  Testament  was  for 
early  Christianity,  in  that  it  restates  with  com- 
pelling power  and  in  terms  of  modern  consciousness 
and  experience  the  drama-epic  of  the  life  of  Jesus 
Christ,  the  spiritually-risen  Christ  of  our  day. 

That  such  a  work  would  and  could  not  become 
to  modern  Christianity  what  the  New  Testament 
is  to-day,  need  not  be  affirmed.  There  would  be 
no  rivalry.  The  one  would  find  its  original  source 
in  and  derive  its  power  of  inspiration  from  the 
other;  its  setting  and  manner  of  presentation, 
however,  from  the  conditions  of  modern  times. 
The  forces  which  have  made  Thomas  a  Kempis's 
Imitation  of  Christ  the  most  widely-read  spiritual 
book  in  the  world,  apart  from  the  Bible,  would  also 
place  this  anticipated  fusion  of  the  old  and  the 
new  in  an  unique  position  in  literature  and  life. 
Such  would  particularly  be  the  case  in  a  generation 
which  seems  to  be  rapidly  losing  its  familiarity 
with  the  Bible,  for  so  many  centuries  the  "Book 
of  Books"  and,  peculiarly,  the  source  of  spiritual 
inspiration. 

In  spite  of  the  criticism  which  posits  the  impossi- 
bility of  an  adequate  literary  treatment  of  the 
character  of  Jesus  and,  too,  in  spite  of  the  practi- 
cally universal  unwillingness  of  the  great  writers 
of  the  past  to  undertake  the  task  of  remolding  the 


Introduction  23 

given  Biblical  material  in  modern  poetic  form; 
nevertheless,  so  long  as  Jesus  remains  a  real, 
present  fact  in  the  deepest  experience  of  the  lives 
of  men — this  will  be,  or  should  be,  as  long  as  men 
call  themselves  the  followers  of  Christ — He  will 
exert  an  unremitting  influence  over  those  whose 
very  calling  it  is  to  translate  the  deepest  experience 
of  the  soul  into  the  symbolic  language  of  poetry 
and  art. 

Just  as  in  the  age  of  the  Old  Testament  prophets, 
in  the  age  of  Jesus  Himself,  no  temporal  or  ecclesias- 
tical power  determined  that  certain  experiences 
and  visions  of  the  spirit  were  sacrosanct,  thus 
restraining  the  prophets  from  becoming  poets — 
that  the  Bible  is  a  treasure-trove  of  dramatic  and 
lyrical  expression,  we  are  just  beginning  to  appre- 
ciate1— so  what  mandate  shall  restrict  the  poets 
of  to-day  from  making  their  art  a  source  of  life- 
giving  and  life-renewing  power  that  has  its  origin 
in  the  very  depths  of  their  own  soul-life?  That 
is  to  say,  that  their  art  shall  root  in  their  own 
religious  faith  and  conviction.  Is  this  not  an 
essential  of  all  great  art?  If  we  may  believe 
Goethe,  there  can  be  no  true  productivity  in 
the  field  of  poetry  and  art,  unless  the  given  people 

1  It  would  be  a  fruitless,  yes,  an  impossible,  undertaking  to 
divest  Jesus'  teachings  of  their  strikingly  poetical  charm,  a  charm 
that  in  no  slight  measure  has  contributed  to  the  age-long  popu- 
larity of  the  New  Testament.  Cf.  Edwin  Markham's  series  of 
essays  on  the  Poetry  of  Jesus  in  the  Forum  (Vol.  43:  54,  145,  283, 
417).  Cf.  also,  Early  Religious  Poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  by  E.  G. 
King  (Cambridge  University  Press). 


24  Introduction 

—and  so  its  poets — have  religious  faith  and 
conviction. 

More  than  one  prominent  author  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  was  attracted  by  the  personality 
of  Christ  as  a  possible  theme  for  literary  treatment. 
But  there  is  no  finished  work  of  a  notable  writer 
that  belongs  properly  to  the  "Jesus  literature." 
The  literary  investigator  discusses  the  writers  of 
the  last  century  with  respect  to  their  attitude 
toward  Christianity  or  the  Church.  The  latter 
did  not  deal  with  the  actual  character  of  Christ, 
nor  with  those  who  immediately  remind  the  reader 
of  the  character  of  Christ,  as  such.  It  is  just 
this,  however,  that  is  so  strikingly  characteristic 
of  the  belles-lettres  of  the  past  decade  and  a  half. l 

Literature  is  thus  keeping  pace  with  religion. 
For,  as  was  emphasised  above,  the  theological 
aspects  of  the  Christian  religion  are  losing  their 
traditional  significance,  whereas  the  personality 
of  Christ  acquires  a  proportionately  greater 
prominence.  In  conformity  with  this  tendency, 
it  may  then  be  predicted  that  the  anticipated  poet 
will  follow  less  in  the  footsteps  of  Dante  and  Milton 
than  in  those  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  and  Thomas  £ 
Kempis.  He  will  recognise  with  his  contempo- 
raries that  the  fact  of  the  Christian  religion  to-day 
is  the  fact  of  the  impression  made  by  the  per- 

1  It  is,  of  course,  granted  that  there  was  a  "Jesus-literature" 
in  the  nineteenth  century,  but  it  had  not  the  "representative" 
character,  ascribed  to  the  present  movement,  and  was,  further- 
more, usually  professionally  devotional  or  semi-uplifting  in  its 
nature  and  purpose. 


Introduction  25 

sonality  of  Christ.  The  Christian  religion  is 
becoming — as  Lessing  wished  it,  over  a  century 
ago — the  religion  of  Christ. 

In  the  discussion  of  the  various  novels  and 
dramas  of  the  authors  already  named,  it  has  been 
my  purpose  primarily  to  outline  the  plot  with 
respect  to  the  central  figure,  whether  this  be  Jesus 
Himself  or  a  character  which  is  in  the  main  the 
embodiment  of  His  spirit.  Only  cursorily  have 
I  touched  upon  the  faults  or  excellencies  of  con- 
struction or  of  character  delineation.  My  reason 
for  ignoring  this  important  function  of  literary 
criticism  is,  that  the  works  under  consideration 
are,  for  our  purpose,  much  more  valuable  from  the 
point  of  view  of  religious  significance  than  from 
that  of  art — and  from  the  latter  standpoint  are 
in  more  instances  than  one  open  to  unfavourable 
criticism.1  The  perfect  union  between  art  and 
religion,  consummated  as  it  has  been  in  certain 
periods  of  the  past,  can  only  then  occur,  when 
religious  conflict  and  disintegration  have  been 
overcome.  The  poet  may  become  a  prophet, 
but  he  will  always  be  conditioned  by  his  own  time ; 
in  this  case,  by  the  crisis  in  the  religious  concep- 
tions of  the  present  generation.  The  selection 
and  discussion  of  the  works  to  be  considered  has, 
accordingly,  been  determined  by  the  consideration 
that  they  are  symptomatic  for  the  present  and 

'A  critic  of  Hauptmann's  The  Fool  in  Christ  asserts  that 
Hauptmann  is  here  rather  a  brooder,  a  ponderer  than  a  creative 
poet. 


26  Introduction 

prophetic  of  the  future — the  necessary  precursors 
of  the  perfect  work  to  be. 

The  following  treatment  of  the  individual 
productions  may  be  open  to  criticism  on  account 
of  lack  of  brevity.  In  anticipation  of  such  criti- 
cism, it  should  be  said  that  the  fact  that  a  few, 
if  not  several,  of  the  works  under  consideration 
are  hardly  accessible  to  the  average  reader,  has 
seemed  to  justify  a  rather  more  extensive  reca- 
pitulation and  summary  of  the  plot  than  would 
otherwise  have  been  the  case. 

By  way  of  introduction,  attention  will  be 
directed  to  two  novels  which  epitomise,  as  it 
were,  the  principal  contentions  of  the  foregoing 
discussion.  In  Hilligenlei,  Gustav  Frenssen  has 
portrayed  the  modern  man  in  his  quest  for  some 
satisfying  revelation  of  the  purpose  and  end  of 
life.  Such  revelation  is  based  upon  the  re-dis- 
covery of  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ  on  the  part  of  the 
chief  character.  Secondly,  we  shall  consider  the 
Miracles  of  the  Anti-Christ  by  Selma  Lagerlof. 
The  Swedish  authoress  conceives  the  Anti-Christ 
to  be  the  Socialistic  movement;  and  with  reason, 
for  this  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  most,  if  not  the 
most,  popular  substitute  for  Christianity  in  the 
present  age.  After  sympathetically  treating  this 
movement  in  the  body  of  the  novel,  she  concludes 
by  pointing  out  that  the  way  of  the  Anti-Christ 
will  ultimately  lead  to  the  very  feet  of  Christ 
Himself. 


Introduction  27 

Thereupon  will  follow  the  consideration  of 
those  works  which  deal  with  some  event  or  phase 
of  the  life  of  the  historical  Jesus: — Sudermann's 
John;  Rostand's  The  Samaritan  Woman;  Wid- 
mann's  The  Saint  and  the  Animals;  Andreyev's 
Judas  Iscariot  and  the  Others.  A  third  division 
consists  of  one  drama  and  three  novels,  in  each  of 
which  the  chief  character  bears  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  Jesus  and,  in  a  certain  measure,  re-in- 
carnates His  spirit  of  faith  in  God,  of  righteousness, 
and  fraternal  sympathy:  Kennedy's  Servant  in  the 
House,  Fogazzaro's  Saint,  Pontoppidan's  The 
Promised  Land,  and  Gerhard  Hauptmann's 
The  Fool  in  Christ,  Emanuel  Quint. 


FRENSSEN'S  "  HILLIGENLEI" ' 

THE  skeptical  critic  will  look  askance  at  the 
title  and  author  of  the  first  work  to  be  dis- 
cussed, the  title  being  a  dialectic  corruption  of 
Heilige  Land,  The  Holy  Land,  and  the  author 
being  a  retired  pastor.  The  critic  will  naturally 
raise  the  question  whether  such  a  work  by  such  an 
author  does  not  belong  to  didactic  rather  than  to 
"pure  literature."  And  such  a  question  will 
seem  the  more  appropriate  when  it  is  understood 
that  the  last  fifth  of  the  novel  is  concerned  with 
the  retelling  of  the  story  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  as 
revealed  by  the  most  recent  research,  this  recountal 
serving  as  the  culminating  point  of  the  action. 
Nevertheless,  I  believe  that  Hilligenlei  is  worthy 
of  our  consideration,  not  only  because  of  its 
remarkable  popularity  among  the  novel-reading 
public,2  which  is  chronically  averse  to  "preach- 
ment literature,"  but  primarily  because,  in  the 
hero,  the  author  has  sublimated  and  intensified 
the  groping  of  modern  man  for  a  true  foundation 
of  life,  and  has  wrought  out  the  conviction  that 
"something  new  must  and  will  come."  The 

1  Hilligenlei,  Roman  von  Gustav  Frenssen,  Berlin,  1905. 

2  Over  100,000  copies  have  been  published. 

28 


Frenssen's  "Hilligenlei"          29 

"something  new"  emerges  after  the  bitter  struggle 
of  a  life-time  as  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Kai  Jans,  the  hero,  whose  life  we  follow  from  birth 
to  death,  puts  virtually  the  questions:  whither? 
why?  whence?  He  seeks  to  answer  in  the  some- 
what unwieldy  and  "scientifically  critical"  manu- 
script treating  of  the  life  of  Jesus.  The  majority 
of  the  other  authors  cited  do  not  put  the  questions 
and  are,  perhaps,  not  conscious  that  they  are 
answering  them;  but,  nevertheless,  they,  too,  are 
trying  to  "hear  the  song  out  of  life  and  the  world, " 
as  the  young,  disheartened  village  pastor  tried  to 
and  could  not.  "I  stand,"  he  exclaims  in  his 
distress,  "like  the  ox  before  the  closed  barn  door; 
yes,  I  stand  just  so  before  the  world  and  wonder 
and  wonder,  not  knowing  the  way  in  nor  the  way 
out.  I  can  hear  no  song  out  of  life  and  the  world, 
no  matter  how  closely  I  listen. "  Is  Kai  Jans  not  a 
child  of  our  time;  Kai  Jans,  who  would  hear 
beyond  the  senseless  restlessness  and  confusion 
of  the  world-life  a  song — rhythm,  melody,  and 
unity? 

Hilligenlei  is  a  village  in  Schleswig,  where  the 
strange  tradition  had  long  existed  to  the  effect 
that  one  of  its  sons  was  to  come  forth  and  make  of 
it,  in  sooth,  a  Holy  City.  It  felt  itself  to  be  set 
apart,  for  this  reason,  as  a  city  of  wonderful 
promise.  With  this  hope  in  mind,  one  of  the 
oldest  inhabitants  always  peered  into  the  face 
of  each  new  child  to  see  whether  he  might  not  be 
the  city's  great  son,  the  Holy  One. 


30          Frenssen's  "Hilligenlei" 

As  it  happened,  the  dreams  of  Kai  jans — a 
peculiarly  imaginative  and  sensitive  boy — were 
filled,  even  in  early  youth,  with  visions  of  some 
wonderful  and  beautiful  land.  He  often  told  his 
companions  of  it  in  those  moments  when  he  over- 
came his  natural  shyness  and  tendency  to  keep 
silent.  Gradually  he  was  forced  to  see,  what  he 
previously  could  not  believe,  that  some  people  are 
really  bad.  He  worked  as  apprentice  for  the  local 
printer  and  learned  through  the  conversation  of 
one  of  his  mature  friends,  how  public  opinion  is 
formed — through  sham,  pretence,  misrepresenta- 
tion, appeal  to  the  more  common  emotions,  etc. 
Then  he  perceived  for  the  first  time  how  little 
Hilligenlei  was  a  Holy  Land  and  how  little,  too, 
he  himself  knew  of  life.  He  was  not  even  sure  as 
to  what  was  holy  and  pure,  as  to  the  difference 
between  good  and  bad. 

Kai  Jans,  the  fifteen-year-old  boy,  departs  later 
for  Hamburg,  where  he  embarks  with  an  older 
friend  as  sailor  before  the  mast.  He  plans  to 
visit  the  lands  of  the  world,  to  discover  the  home 
of  those  children  of  men  who  know  neither  sorrow 
nor  sin,  men  who  are  inherently  good.  For  he  is 
convinced  that  such  a  land  must  exist  somewhere 
in  the  world.  "If  there  is  not  such  a  land,  what  a 
strange,  incoherent  world  it  is!"  he  cries.  Thus, 
for  four  years  he  sails  from  shore  to  shore  in  quest 
of  the  home  of  those  who  are  at  once  good  and 
strong  and  free.  He  returns  home  with  a  crippled 
hand  and  a  purpose  unfulfilled,  but  he  still  sees 


Frenssen's  "  Hilligenlei "          31 

the  land  and  the  people  in  the  vision  of  his  soul. 

Thereupon  follow  the  years  of  study,  prepara- 
tory to  a  course  in  the  university — years  of  hope 
and  doubt,  of  pride  and  despair,  of  growing 
friendship  and  disappointed  love;  followed,  in 
turn,  by  a  period  of  indifference,  in  which  the 
search  for  Hilligenlei  is  utterly  abandoned. 

But,  the  teeming  life  of  the  university  city 
arouses  Kai  Jans  to  his  better  self ;  not  the  ponder- 
ing and  dreaming  self,  the  seeker  of  holy  lands, 
but  the  self  that  would  know  life  and  know  it 
whole.  He  calls  himself  a  ''Life-eater"  and 
revels  in  the  activity  and  beauty  and,  above  all, 
in  the  people  about  him.  He  lives  with  a  labour- 
er's family  and  delves  into  their  problems  and  into 
their  inner  lives.  He  will  ground  the  meaning  of 
it  all. 

But  I  stand  on  the  banks  and  listen  to  the  flowing 
of  the  stream  of  life  and  I  hear  in  the  motion  of  the 
current  the  old  question:  whither  and  whence,  oh 
children  of  man?  I  hear  the  question  more  and  more 
clearly,  and  it  sounds  more  from  the  depths  to  me 
than  to  others,  and  it  causes  me  more  anxiety  than  it 
causes  others. 

As  Kai  Jans,  at  the  conclusion  of  his  study, 
entered  upon  the  duties  of  a  village  pastorate,  he 
became  a  man,  serious,  troubled,  and  alone.  He 
perceived,  for  the  first  time,  in  its  whole  extent, 
how  purposeless,  confused,  and  wearisome  the 
life  of  mankind  is.  He  wondered  at  the  pettiness 


32          Frenssen's  "  Hilligenlei" 

and  unworthy  deceits  of  social  life;  at  the  laboured 
progress  of  the  state;  the  wooden,  narrow  creed  of 
the  churches;  and  the  slow  and  bloody  course  of 
civilisation.  He  saw,  also,  how  little  light  shone 
from  above  on  his  own  eyes,  he  who  was  appointed 
to  lead  the  blind;  and  after  one  year  of  service, 
he  determined  to  go  back  to  the  city,  in  order  to 
find  the  truth,  to  investigate  in  all  earnestness  and 
zeal  the  condition  of  his  people,  who  in  this  time 
of  unrest  seemed  so  needy  of  succour. 

And  this  man,  with  whom  it  was  always  Christ- 
mas Eve — as  one  of  his  labourer  friends  told  the 
father,  who  had  come  some  months  later  to  visit 
Kai  Jans  in  Berlin — found  that  the  things  and 
people  about  him  always  spoiled  his  Christmas 
Eve.  He  lived  in  the  slums — if  Berlin  may  be 
said  to  have  slums — for  a  whole  year,  pondering 
and  pondering,  delving  deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  misery  and  want  and  unhappiness  of  his 
neighbours  and  friends.  "He  thinks,"  as  the 
labourer  continued,  "that  there  ought  to  be  more 
happiness  in  the  world,  that  the  world  is  not  in 
order,  and  he  feels  that  he  is  called  to  find  the 
sense  and  meaning  of  it  all,  but  he  cannot  find  it. " 
Thereupon,  the  son  himself  appears  on  the  scene 
and  learns,  just  as  he  is  on  the  point  of  welcoming 
his  father  to  the  city,  of  the  frightful  murder  which 
had  been  enacted  in  the  neighbouring  dwelling. 
In  the  anguish  of  his  soul,  he  cries  out:  "We  have 
nothing — nothing — no  unity,  no  trust,  no  home, 
no  belief,  no  love,  no  hope.  We  are  shaken  like 


Frenssen's  "  Hilligenlei "          33 

corn  in  the  sieve.  What  is  the  trouble  with  the 
world?"  His  father  led  him  back  then  to  the 
waters  and  heaths  of  Hilligenlei,  that  his  troubled 
spirit  might  collect  itself  and  become  reconciled 
to  the  unhappiness  in  life. 

The  early  days  of  despondency  which  followed 
were  brightened  somewhat  by  the  companionship 
of  a  young  girl  friend,  who  shared  his  burden  with 
him  and  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  talk  of  the 
disappointment  which  the  recent  Berlin  experience 
had  caused  him.  He  had  gone  forth  with  the 
purpose  of  sounding  the  depths  of  the  strivings 
and  hopings  of  the  people.  He  imagined  that  a 
new  spirit  was  abroad  in  the  land,  the  spirit  of 
progressiveness,  of  social  betterment,  and  justice; 
and  he  wished  to  learn  more  of  this  spirit,  its  source, 
and  its  ultimate  goal,  that  he  might,  perhaps,  sing 
a  song  of  re-birth  for  his  beloved  country.  Then 
he  had  seen  how  petty  and  worthless  so-called 
progress  was,  and  he  believed  that  he  had  learned 
why.  Because  behind  it  all  there  was  no  faith, 
beneath  it  all  there  was  no  foundation,  above  it 
all  no  "world-feeling,  no  religion."  And  he 
cried  out  for  a  great  faith,  one  that  would  come 
like  the  joyous  herald  of  the  morning,  calling  all 
wise  and  brave  and  good  men  to  believe. 

But  where  is  one  to  find  this  new  faith?  No  one 
can  say  where  it  is.  And  the  eternal  power  does  not 
give  it  to  us.  It  is  fearful,  when  one  begs  of  God: 
"Show  it  to  me !  give  it  to  me !  See,  I  need  it  and  my 
people  need  it,  give  it,  or  our  hearts  will  break;"  and 

3 


34          Frenssen's  "  Hilligenlei" 

He — He  looks  at  one  with  His  quiet,  unspeaking  eyes, 
always  with  the  same  quiet,  unspeaking  eyes 

And  Heincke  Boje,  the  companion  of  his  daily 
walks,  whose  heart  was  as  pure  and  clear  as  the 
air  of  the  wind-swept  heaths,  went  home  in  sore 
distress,  that  her  friend  could  not  find  his  Holy 
Land;  and  she  prayed  with  all  the  fervour  of  her 
race  to  that  unmoved  and  unspeaking  Power. 

The  following  morning  as  Kai  Jans  and  his 
young  friend  struggled  through  the  storm,  she 
asked  him  whether  there  had  ever  been  a  man  in 
the  world  who  had  stood  upon  such  a  Holy  Land, 
that  he  had  discovered  the  secret  of  joy  and 
beauty.  Kai  Jans  thought  that  Jesus  had  been 
such  a  man,  but  felt  that  his  picture  had  been  so 
often  painted  and  gilded  over  that  there  was  no 
use  trying  to  find  the  original,  although  he  well 
knew  that  many  a  scholar  had  busied  himself 
with  just  this  task.  But  Heincke  Boje  thought 
that  it  was  worth  while;  in  fact,  that  there  was 
nothing  more  worth  while,  more  necessary,  than 
that  one  should  know  the  truth  about  the  real 
character  of  the  Saviour. 

If  it  should  become  evident  [begins  Kai  Jans,  some- 
what uncertainly]  that  he  was  a  man,  a  simple  man, 
and  if  one  could  show  the  depths  of  his  soul,  the  Holy 
Land  upon  which  he  stood — and  one  could  then  say: 
"Come  here,  oh  children  of  men;  look,  here  stood 
a  man,  a  man  like  unto  ourselves,  upon  Holy  Land, 
and  lie  was  happy  and  full  of  joy;  come,  come  hither; 


Frenssen's  "  Hilligenlei  "  35 

we,  too,  will  take  our  stand  upon  this  Holy  Land  and 
will  build  toward  the  rebirth  of  our  people."  But  no 
— it  cannot  be  done — the  original  evidence  is  too 
meagre;  I  do  not  believe  [he  adds  in  despair]  that  his 
soul  and  very  life  will  ever  be  rediscovered. 

But  the  air  of  the  sea  is  in  Heincke's  lungs  and 
the  light  of  the  sun  in  her  eyes,  and  she  will  not 
abide  the  despair  of  his  voice  and  words.  With 
the  confident  inspiration  of  youth,  she  urges  him 
to  dare  to  use  the  results  of  learned  investigations, 
and  make  live  anew  that  distant,  strange,  and 
wonderful  being; — he,  Kai  Jans,  with  his  "child 
eyes,"  accustomed  since  early  youth  to  look  at 
men  and  things,  naked  as  they  really  are,  he  is 
fitted  to  take  the  first  step  at  least. 

In  spite  of  many  misgivings  and  a  deep  conscious- 
ness of  his  own  unworthiness,  Kai  Jans  is  inspired 
thus  to  undertake  the  task  of  uniting  in  the  crucible 
of  his  heart  and  brain  the  past  and  the  present, 
the  distant  and  the  near,  Christianity  and  German 
character.  In  this  way,  the  manuscript  came  to 
be  which  bears  the  title :  The  Life  of  the  Saviour, 
Portrayed  in  Accordance  with  the  Results  of  Ger- 
man Research;  the  Foundation  of  the  German 
Renaissance. 

Thereupon  follows  the  text  of  the  manuscript 
(pp.  485-592),  which  in  itself  may  not  be  con- 
sidered a  product  of  imaginative  literature,  al- 
though Frenssen  does  relate  the  events  of  the 
life  of  Jesus  in  story  form  and  with  more  or  less 
freedom  in  respect  to  his  treatment  of  the  sources. 


36          Frenssen's  "  Hilligenlei " 

Nevertheless,  he  claims  for  the  narrative  scientifi- 
cally critical  value,  and  has  evidently  made  use 
not  alone  of  the  theological  and  literary  investiga- 
tions of  Bible  critics,  but  also  of  geographical, 
ethnological,  and  sociological  studies  of  the  land 
of  Palestine.  He  makes  Jesus,  in  every  respect, 
a  child  of  his  time  and  environment,  but  one  who 
was  filled  above  all  else  with  a  longing  for  pure 
human  lives  in  a  pure  land.  Thus,  he  tells  the 
story  of  a  human  being,  wonderfully  good  and 
wise  and  brave ;  not  the  story  of  the  churches  and 
priests,  not  the  story  of  the  Son  of  God,  who  came 
upon  earth.  "The  true  and  complete  man," 
as  he  says,  "discovered  the  true  faith  of  man"; 
the  faith  that  God  is  good,  that  the  soul  of  man 
makes  for  God  and  the  Good,  that  man  should 
love  God  and  his  neighbour  and  thus  prepare  the 
coming  of  the  Kingdom  of  God,  das  Hilligenlei. 
In  this  re-discovery  of  Christ's  life,  Kai  Jans, 
the  Life-seeker,  the  God-seeker,  found  his  haven 
and  the  longed-for  peace  of  soul. 

Again  let  it  be  emphasised  that  Frenssen's  novel, 
with  all  of  its  imperfections  of  conception  and 
composition,  is  symptomatic  of  the  recent  thinking 
of  our  time ;  Kai  Jans,  the  seeker  of  the  Hilligenlei 
being  but  the  artistic  embodiment  of  the  longing 
for  a  new,  unified  faith  in  the  worth  of  life,  and  his 
Hilligenlei,  the  Holy  Land  of  Christ,  being  the 
Land  of  Promise.  The  unusual  popularity  of  the 
novel,  together  with  the  general  controversy  that 


Frenssen's  "Hilligenlei"          37 

it  has  called  forth,  attest   to  the  truth  of  this 
statement. 

Parenthetically,  in  conjunction  with  Frenssen's 
Hilligenlei,  mention  should  be  made  of  Rosegger's 
Inri.1  It  may  be  said  to  be  a  companion  piece, 
because  it,  too,  is  a  modern  Messiade,  and  one  that 
has  aroused  much  criticism  and  much  praise  on 
account  of  the  liberal  treatment  of  the  Gospel 
story;  a  counterpart,  because  Rosegger  causes  his 
hero,  a  dreamer-anarchist,  condemned  to  death,  to 
write  the  "Joyous  Message"  of  Jesus.  Without 
recourse  to  books  of  reference,  to  scientific  inves- 
tigations, or  ecclesiastical  traditions,  this  thor- 
oughly subjective  narrative  of  the  life  of  Jesus  was 
born  of  memory  and  the  longing  of  the  heart  for  a 
personal  Saviour,  supplemented  by  the  power  of  a 
poetic  imagination.  Not  the  historical  Jesus — 
the  Bible  itself  had  been  denied  the  prisoner  by 
the  Catholic  monk — but  the  Jesus  in  whom  he 
believed,  the  "believed  Jesus"  became  his  Saviour; 
accordingly,  not  the  Jesus  of  the  Book  but  the 
Jesus  of  the  heart.  The  Hilligenlei  of  the  ration- 
alist of  the  North  and  the  Inri  of  the  sunny 
humanitarian  of  the  South — each  has  contributed 
toward  making  the  Jesus  of  Palestine,  of  nineteen 
hundred  years  ago,  at  home  in  the  German 
fatherland  of  to-day. 

1  Inri,  Frohe  Botschaft  eines  Siinders,  1905. 


SELMA  LAGERLOF'S  "ANTI-CHRIST"' 

IN  the  present  generation,  which  stands  forth 
so  prominently  as  a  period  of  social  awakening, 
seeming,  as  it  does,  to  be  no  more  than  the  herald 
of  a  world-wide  socialisation  of  all  phases  and 
interests  of  life,  it  is  not  strange  that  art — "born 
of  its  own  time,  an  expression  of  its  immediate 
environment" — should  take  due  cognisance  of 
the  movement  which  bids  fair  to  transform  pub- 
lic opinion,  government,  philosophy,  and  even 
religion.  The  scores  of  recent  dramas,  dealing 
with  economic,  sociological,  and  social  conditions, 
are  a  sufficient  index  to  the  intimate  contact 
between  art  and  present  environment.  With 
respect  to  religion,  and  particularly  the  Christian 
religion,  the  influence  of  the  social  movement 
becomes  apparent  in  two  widely  different  tenden- 
cies ;  first,  the  tendency  toward  amalgamation,  or, 
perhaps,  the  fusion  of  the  vital  forces  of  the  one 
with  those  of  the  other — I  have  in  mind  the 
Institutional  Church,  the  activities  of  the  Federal 
Council  of  the  Churches  of  Christ  in  America,  and 
the  party  of  Christian  Socialists,  a  more  or  less 
influential  political  party  existing  in  various 

1  Selma  Lagerlof,  Die  Wunder  des  Anti-Christ,  (1897)  (Uberset- 
zung  von  F.  Brausewetter,  Mainz,  1908). 

38 


Sel ma  Lagerlofs  "  Anti-Christ"     39 

countries;  and,  secondly,  the  tendency,  on  the 
part  of  organised  Socialism,  to  entirely  supplant 
Christianity — a  tendency  very  marked  in  those 
countries  where  the  Marxian  Social  Democracy 
flourishes.  In  addition,  it  is  appropriate  to  direct 
attention  to  those  heterogeneous  and  only  loosely 
organised  groups  that  have  more  or  less  consciously 
allowed  humanitarian  impulses  and  social  activi- 
ties to  displace  religious  observances  and  beliefs. 
Reference  is  made  to  the  ethical  culture  societies 
of  various  countries,  as  a  case  in  point. 

Those  who  are  even  superficially  acquainted 
with  the  scope  of  influence  of  the  European  Social 
Democracy,  are  well  aware  how  pronounced  the 
struggle  is  between  Socialism  and  the  Christian 
Church.  One  critic  of  Social  Democracy  calls  the 
organisation  a  "Church  for  the  Masses";  but, 
one  should  add,  it  is  a  church  which  has  little  or 
no  interest  in  those  values  that  are  not  immediately 
evident  and  apparent.  As  one  of  the  secretaries 
of  the  party  in  Germany  put  it : 

Whether  there  is  a  God  or  not,  is  a  matter  of  in- 
difference to  me.  This  is  no  place  for  religious  forces; 
we  have  no  need  of  them.  Our  interest  in  the  class 
struggle  demands  our  entire  time  and  strength. 

It  is  largely,  indeed,  this  class  animosity  that 
makes  the  Christian  Church  a  favourite  object  of 
attack.  No  Social  Democrat,  at  least  in  the 
large  cities,  may  identify  himself  publicly  with  the 
Church-life,  without  arousing  the  wrath  of  his 


40    Selma  Lagerlofs  "Anti-Christ" 

fellows;  for  the  Church  is  the  stronghold  of  the 
possessing  classes.  Furthermore,  as  the  leaders 
of  the  organisation  aver,  the  Church  preaches 
patience,  long-suffering,  and  peacefulness.  Jesus 
postulates  the  goodness  of  God,  whereas  we  see 
all  about  us  the  bitterest  struggle  for  existence, 
relentless  competition,  hate,  hunger,  and  dire 
distress.  The  Socialist  must  fight  in  self-defence. 
And  then  even  those  comparatively  few  Social 
Democrats  who  do  not  feel  that  they  are  "through 
with  Jesus,"  that  a  "Marxist  can  learn  nothing 
more  from  Christ,"  do  see  in  the  Founder  of 
Christianity  only  a  socialist  and  revolutionary. 
There  have  been  two  recent  attempts  in  Germany 
to  reconcile  Socialism  to  the  Gospel  story.  In 
both,  Jesus  is  the  sponsor  of  a  proletarian  move- 
ment against  the  domination  of  the  upper  classes. 
He  is  the  exponent  of  Brotherly  Love — which 
socialism  generally  accepts — but  neither  a  God, 
nor  a  valid  teacher  of  God  and  eternal  values. 
One  of  the  "apologists"1  dilates  at  length  on 
"Jesus'  religious  illusions." 

The  impartial  observer  is  thus  forced  to  admit 
that  this  extensive  popular  movement — affecting 
the  lives  of  millions  of  adherents  in  various  countries 
—is  pronouncedly  opposed  to  the  Christian  Church, 
on  the  one  hand,  and  either  anti-religious  or 
religiously  indifferent,  on  the  other.  The  evi- 
dences of  a  reaction  toward  religion,  although  not 

1  Max  Maurenbrecher.  The  other  is  Karl  Kautsky.  (Der 
Ur sprung  des  Christentums). 


Selma  Lagerlofs  "Anti-Christ"     41 

entirely  wanting,  are  less  apparent  among  the 
common  people  in  countries  where  Social  Democ- 
racy flourishes,  than  in  any  other  class  of  the 
population.  Finally,  it  must  be  granted  that,  as 
the  sphere  of  influence  of  Socialism  has  increased, 
that  of  the  Church  has  almost  proportionately 
diminished. 

Selma  Lagerlof  presents  in  Anti-Christ,  the 
reverse  side  of  the  picture,  inasmuch  as  she  depicts 
the  wide-spread  influence  of  the  prevalent  Socialis- 
tic belief  that  "our  kingdom  is  only  of  this  world. " 
In  the  concluding  chapters  of  the  novel,  she  points 
out  the  ultimate  inadequacy  of  such  a  belief  and 
predicts  the  final  ascendancy  of  the  Christ  over 
the  Anti-Christ. 

The  text  of  the  novel — The  Miracles  of  the  Anti- 
Christ — is  taken  from  an  old  Sicilian  popular  tale : 

When  the  Anti-Christ  comes,  he  will  seem  to  be 
like  unto  Christ.  ||  It  will  be  in  the  time  of  great 
want,  1 1  and  the  Anti-Christ  shall  go  from  land  to  land 
and  shall  give  bread  to  the  poor.  1 1  And  he  shall  have 
many  followers.  || 

The  book  is  divided  into  an  introduction  and  three 
main  parts.  Each  division  is  based  on  a  sentence 
of  the  text,  as  above  indicated.  The  scene  is  laid 
in  Sicily,  the  home  of  the  Majestic  Mountain  of 
Mountains,  as  well  as  that  of  countless  saints. 
Whether  the  traditions  and  superstitions  relating 
to  Mount  AZtna  surpass  in  number  and  influence 
those  pertaining  to  the  saints,  it  is  difficult  to 


42    Selma  Lagerlofs  " Anti-Christ" 

determine;  for  the  people  living  in  the  hamlets 
scattered  on  the  broad  sides  of  JEtna  are  deeply 
religious  and  likewise  deeply  superstitious.  They 
believe  in  and  long  for  wonders  and  signs. 

"When  the  Anti-Christ  comes,  he  will  seem  to 
be  like  unto  the  Christ."  The  story  was  told  of 
Augustus  Caesar,  that  he  climbed  to  the  summit  of 
the  Capitol  Hill  on  the  night  of  Christ's  birth,  for 
the  purpose  of  learning  from  his  "genius"  whether 
he  should  allow  a  temple  to  be  built  in  his  own 
honour.  A  sibyl,  who  sat  there  in  the  stillness  of 
the  night,  led  the  spirit  of  the  Emperor  to  the 
scene  of  the  manger  in  Bethlehem  and  disclosed 
this  to  him:  "That  is  the  God  who  is  to  be  wor- 
shipped on  the  Capitol  Hill."  Later,  she  pro- 
nounced these  words  as  though  reading  from  the 
stars: 

"High  above,  on  the  Capitol  Hill,  worship  ye 
the  restorer  of  the  world. 

May  He  be  Christ  or  Anti-Christ;  but  never 
mortal  men!" 

And  Augustus  built  an  altar  for  the  new-born 
child  and  he  called  it  the  "Altar  of  Heaven," 
Ara  Cceli. 

In  the  course  of  the  centuries  a  high  monastery 
had  arisen,  which  resembled  a  fortress.  In  it 
lived  the  Franciscans,  who  felt  themselves  called 
to  defend  the  "Altar  of  Heaven"  from  the  attack 
of  the  Anti-Christ,  whose  coming  the  sibyl  had 
predicted.  Their  only  comfort  in  the  anxious 


Selma  Lagerlof's  "Anti-Christ"     43 

days  and  nights  of  watching  was  the  beautiful 
statue  of  the  wonder-working  Christ -child,  which 
was  preserved  in  a  carefully  guarded  chapel  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  altar.  This  Christ-child  was 
beautiful  beyond  description  and  famous  above 
all  others.  The  monks  had  seen  many  a  man  come 
and  go,  whom  they  had  feared  as  the  Anti-Christ — 
the  rich,  the  powerful,  the  successful.  But  still 
they  watched  and  prayed  and  feared. 

Some  sixty  years  ago  an  English  woman  became 
devoted  to  the  Christ-child  of  the  Capitol  Hill,  and 
her  request  to  pay  unheard-of  sums  as  the  purchase 
price  having  been  refused,  she  determined  to  ac- 
quire it  through  a  ruse.  She  caused  a  model  to 
be  made  of  wood,  an  exact  imitation  of  the  original 
statue.  She  decked  it  out  with  a  crown  and  other 
ornaments,  but  not  of  gold  and  rare  jewels,  rather 
of  gilded  tin  and  brass  and  glass.  And  to  appease 
her  conscience,  before  making  the  exchange  in  the 
little  chapel,  she  scratched  on  its  crown:  "My 
kingdom  is  only  of  this  world."  But  only  for  a 
time  was  she  in  possession  of  the  true  Christ-child, 
when,  of  itself,  it  went  to  the  monastery  and 
demanded  admission  and  the  honour  which  was 
its  due.  The  monks  discovered  the  inscription, 
cursed,  and  hurled  the  imposter,  the  Anti-Christ, 
down  the  Capitol  steps,  where  it  was  later  discov- 
ered by  the  English  woman.  Disconsolate,  she 
picked  it  up  and  in  memory  of  the  days  when  she 
had  worshipped  the  original  statue,  she  packed 
the  little  figure  in  her  luggage  and  took  it  on  her 


44     Selma  Lagerlofs  "Anti-Christ" 

journeys.  Strangely  enough,  wherever  she  came 
with  the  false  Christ,  the  power  of  Christ  Himself 
diminished,  and  no  one  seemed  to  understand  the 
cause. 

On  her  wanderings  she  arrived  in  Paris,  in  the 
time  of  the  Revolution.  Her  wagon  and  luggage 
were  seized  and  served  as  a  part  of  the  barricade. 
Suddenly  the  Christ-statue  fell  from  an  opened 
trunk,  and  some  one  discovered  the  inscription  on 
the  crown:  "My  kingdom  is  only  of  this  world" — 
a  fit  sentiment  for  the  down-trodden  poor  and 
hungry ;  and  they  raised  the  little  figure  to  the  top 
of  the  barricade  and  fought  in  honour  of  it. 

Not  alone  to  the  poor  and  hungry,  but  also 
to  a  student  who  was  fighting  with  and  for  the 
oppressed  people,  this  thought,  "My  kingdom  is 
only  of  this  world,"  became  a  source  of  inspiration. 
He  had  at  last  found  the  word  of  salvation  for  all 
his  struggling,  hopelessly  struggling,  fellow-men. 
And  this  man  began  to  declare  to  the  world  a  new 
teaching,  which  is  called  Socialism,  but  which  is 
Anti-Christianity.  It  loves  and  teaches,  it  denies 
itself  and  suffers,  so  that  it  is  as  similar  to  Christ- 
ianity as  the  false  statue  of  Aracceli  is  to  the 
true  Christ  statue;  and,  like  the  false  statue,  it  says 
also:  "My  kingdom  is  only  of  this  world."  And, 
although  the  statue  which  was  the  source  of  the 
teaching,  is  unknown  and  unnoticed,  the  teaching 
itself  goes  through  the  lands  of  the  earth,  in  order 
to  save  and  regenerate  the  world.  It  becomes 
more  wide-spread  day  by  day.  It  passes  through 


Selma  Lagcrlofs  "Anti-Christ"     45 

all  countries  and  bears  many  names;  and  the 
source  of  its  seductive  power  is  that  it  promises  to 
all  earthly  happiness  and  pleasure,  so  that  it 
attracts  more  followers  than  any  other  movement 
that  has  been  known  among  men  since  the  time 
of  Christ.  Thus  far  the  introduction. 


Book  I  is  introduced  by  the  text:  "It  (the 
coming  of  the  Anti-Christ)  will  be  in  the  time  of 
great  want. "  Diamante,  an  inland  Sicilian  town, 
is  surely  well-fitted  to  serve  as  the  central  scene 
of  the  novel.  Its  dilapidated  churches,  monas- 
teries, and  public  buildings  bear  witness  to  the 
prosperity  of  its  past,  as  well  as  to  the  poverty  of 
the  present.  Overburdened  by  taxes  and  entirely 
unable  to  feed  its  poor,  Diamante  provides  an 
enthusiastic  welcome  to  Gaetano,  one  of  its  sons, 
who  returns  from  a  stay  in  England,  in  order  to 
preach  the  doctrine  of  Socialism.  The  message 
seems  to  the  attentive  listeners  to  be  a  new  one, 
destined  to  regenerate  mankind,  just  as  Christian- 
ity had  once  done.  But  Christianity  had  ordered 
men  to  think  of  heaven,  whereas  the  Socialistic 
agitator  sounds  the  call 

to  think  of  the  earth.  The  earth  is  all  that  we  pos- 
sess. So  we  must  order  our  lives  that  we  may  be  happy 
here — the  earth,  the  earth — oh,  we  Socialists  love  it. 
We  worship  the  earth,  the  poor,  neglected  mother,  who 
mourns  because  her  children  wish  to  mount  up  to 


46     Selma  Lagerlofs  "Anti-Christ" 

heaven.     The   earth  offers  us  beauty,   satisfaction, 
knowledge,  health. 

Gaetano,  the  herald  of  the  "kingdom  of  this 
world,"  is  imprisoned  on  account  of  his  radical 
tendencies.  What  he  has  promulgated  in  theory 
is  proven  in  fact  by  Micaela,  who  has  come  to  love 
Gaetano  and  hopes  to  free  him,  with  the  aid  of  the 
out-cast  Christ-statue.  Neither  Micaela  nor  the 
relic-seeking  English  woman,  who  had  brought 
the  little  wooden  image  to  Diamante  and  given  it 
to  the  priest  of  one  of  the  forsaken  churches,  had 
ever  read  the  words  inscribed  upon  the  leaden 
crown  of  the  statue:  "My  kingdom  is  only  of  this 
world." 

The  text  of  this,  the  second  book,  is:  "And  the 
Anti-Christ  shall  go  from  land  to  land  and  shall 
give  bread  to  the  poor."  Gaetano  had  once  said 
that  Diamante  ought  to  have  a  railroad  in  order 
to  transport  its  oranges,  wine,  honey,  etc.,  to  the 
distant  harbours.  Micaela,  in  her  devotion, 
conceives  the  plan  of  making  such  a  railroad  feasi- 
ble. Penniless  as  she  is  and  poverty-stricken  as 
Diamante  is,  she  must  needs  turn  to  some  higher 
power  for  assistance.  The  little  imitation  Christ - 
child  becomes  a  never-failing  source  of  support. 
"Miracle"  after  "miracle"  is  performed,  and  the 
wooden  box,  superscribed:  "Gifts  for  the  ^tna 
Railroad,"  is  a  perfect  treasure- trove  for  the 
public-spirited  Micaela.  It  should  be  added,  by 
way  of  an  aside,  that  Micaela  anticipates  the  royal 


Selma  Lagerlofs  "Anti-Christ"     47 

decree  of  pardon  for  Gaetano,  as  the  reward  for  her 
undertaking. 

No  less  than  five  distinct  "miracles"  are  per- 
formed:— one  for  the  owner  of  the  Marionette 
Theatre,  who  has  lost  his  patronage;  another  for 
the  blind  singers,  who  are  threatened  with  the 
loss  of  their  church;  another  for  a  civil  engineer, 
who  has  an  "evil  glance,"  so  that  misfortune 
visits  all  men  and  things  that  he  chances  to  look 
upon.  The  theatre  manager  tells  of  the  wonder- 
working power  of  the  Christ-statue.1  The  blind 
men  sing  its  praises  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  island.  The  engineer,  no  longer  a 
menace  to  the  world  about  him,  dedicates  his 
training  and  ability  to  the  construction  of  the  road. 
The  other  "miracles"  are  similar  in  kind. 

In  1895  the  railroad  was  completed.  Diamante 
became  as  an  oasis  in  the  desert.  Its  king  and 
ruler  was  the  little  Christ-image  in  the  Church  of 
San  Pasquale.  No  one  thought  of  marrying  or 
building  a  house  or  playing  in  the  lottery,  without 
first  asking  advice  of  the  Christ -child.  The  reason 
that  the  rest  of  the  world  was  at  war  or  oppressed  or 
unhappy  was  that  it  knew  nothing  of  Diamante 's 
wonder-working  statue.  "And,"  as  the  text  of 
the  third  book  runs,  "the  Anti-Chirst  shall  have 
many  followers." 

1  On  coming  out  of  the  church,  where  she  had  gone  in  her 
despair,  his  wife  heard  an  old  woman  speak  of  a  certain  play. 
This  was  the  "sign."  The  revival  of  the  old  miracle  play 
mentioned  by  the  woman,  filled  the  theatre  night  after  night. 


48     Selma  Lagerlofs  "Anti-Christ" 

The  final  chapters  of  the  book  present  the 
manner  of  the  final  repudiation  of  the  wonder- 
working image.  The  blind  singers  have  sung  the 
praises  of  the  Christ-child  of  Diamante  to  the 
extremities  of  the  island.  Pater  Gondo,  who  had 
served  his  novitiate  on  the  Capitol  Hill,  preaches 
a  pilgrimage  to  Diamante  and  gathers  about  him- 
self forty  pilgrims,  who  are  heavy  of  heart  but 
light  of  foot,  because  they  confidently  anticipate 
with  Pater  Gondo  that  their  sins  will  be  forgiven 
them  and  their  consciences  purified  through  the 
intercession  of  the  wonderful  image.  After  a 
fatiguing  journey,  they  reach  Diamante  and  are 
welcomed  with  great  cordiality  by  the  proud 
inhabitants.  One  of  their  number,  a  girl  who  had 
vainly  sought  relief  in  churches  and  shrines, 
hastens  ahead  of  the  pilgrims  and  attendant  citi- 
zens that  she  may  at  last  find  rest  and  peace  for 
her  tortured  soul.  As  Pater  Gondo  and  his  band 
of  followers  later  approach  the  church  this  girl 
rushes  out  upon  him  and  attacks  him  with  demoni- 
acal violence.  After  a  protracted  struggle  she  is 
overpowered  and  bound. 

On  seeing  the  famed  statue,  Pater  Gondo 
recognised  it  at  once  as  the  Anti-Christ,  thrown 
out  by  the  indignant  priests  of  the  Franciscan 
monastery.  He  took  down  the  crown  and  read 
thereon  the  unmistakable  words:  "My  kingdom  is 
only  of  this  world. "  The  crown  fell  from  his  hand 
and  rolled  away  on  the  stone  flagging.  It  was 
picked  up,  the  inscription  was  read,  and  each 


Selma  Lagerlof's  "Anti-Christ"     49 

pilgrim  sadly  extinguished  his  candle.  Then 
Pater  Gondo  told  them  the  story  of  the  Anti- 
Christ  and  explained,  thus,  why  the  young  girl 
had  lost  control  of  herself.  She  had  confidently 
sought  peace  for  her  soul  and  found  neither 
forgiveness  nor  relief.  He  took  the  image  and, 
holding  it  at  arm's  length,  went  out  to  the  open 
place  before  the  church  and  ordered  a  fire  to  be 
built.  When  all  was  arranged,  he  turned  to  the 
people  of  Diamante  and  asked,  with  fire  in  his  eye : 

"You  say  that  the  image  has  given  you  everything 
for  which  you  have  asked.  Has  there  been  no  one  in 
all  these  years  who  has  asked  for  forgiveness  of  sins 
and  peace  of  soul?  Is  that  possible?  The  people  of 
Diamante  have  asked  for  nothing  else  than  lottery 
tickets  and  good  years,  for  daily  bread  and  health  and 
money.  No  one  has  asked  for  the  grace  and  mercy 
of  heaven." 

Thereupon  he  begged  them  to  deny  this.  He 
was  unable  to  believe  that  all  in  Diamante  had 
become  idolaters,  servants  of  this  world,  serving 
the  Anti-Christ  because  it  paid. 

Some  one  in  the  crowd  replied  in  self-defence: 
"It  has  been  good  and  merciful,  like  unto  Christ. " 

"That  is  exactly  the  worst  of  all,"  cried  the 
Pater  in  a  sudden  outburst  of  anger. 

"  It  has  assumed  the  form  of  Christ  in  order  to  lead 
you  astray.  By  scattering  its  gifts  and  blessings 
among  you,  it  has  enticed  you  into  its  power  and  made 


50     Selma  Lagerlofs  "Anti-Christ" 

servants  of  this  world  of  you.  Or  is  this  not  so?  Can 
any  one  assert  the  contrary?  Perhaps  some  one  of 
you  has  heard  of  one  who  is  not  now  present,  who 
asked  the  image  for  some  heavenly  favour?  " 

The  people  looked  at  him  in  fear  and  anger, 
but  they  could  say  nothing  in  defence  of  their 
beloved  statue.  And  the  indignant  Pater,  turning 
toward  the  fire,  with  the  image  in  his  hands,  said : 
"Oh,  thou  Anti-Christ,  dost  thou  see  that  no  one 
has  thought  of  his  soul  as  long  as  thou  hast  been 
here?  Thou  must  perish!" 

But  just  as  he  threw  it  on  the  bonfire,  a  small  boy 
leaped  forward — the  executor  of  many  an  unspoken 
wish — and  snatched  the  image  from  the  fire.  In 
the  pursuit  which  followed,  he  threw  it  into  a 
passing  wagon,  occupied  by  a  departing  English 
traveller.  Thus,  the  Anti-Christ  continues  on  its 
journeys  through  the  countries  of  the  earth. 

The  teaching  of  the  story  of  Anti- Christ  is 
summed  up  by  the  pope,  to  whom  Pater  Gondo 
has  told  of  Diamante's  Anti-Christ  and  that  this 
people,  once  so  devout,  had  left  the  Church  and 
subscribed  to  the  new  teaching  of  Socialism. 
Thereupon,  the  holy  father  chided  the  indignant 
Pater  for  his  zeal.  He  pointed  out  to  him  that 
Socialism  was  destined  to  do  great  things  for  man- 
kind. It  would  spread  abroad  the  practice  of 
self-sacrifice  and  of  brotherly  love;  it  would  heal 
the  sick  and  lift  up  the  poor;  it  would  banish 
violence  and  institute  peace;  in  short,  it  might 


Selma  Lagerlofs  "Anti-Christ"     51 

make  a  Paradise  of  this  earth — and  entice  men  to 
forget  heaven.  But,  because  this  great  popular 
movement  denied  Christ,  it  was  not  becoming  for 
the  Christians  to  decry  it — to  burn  the  Anti-Christ 
—but,  rather,  to  take  it  in  their  arms  and  lead 
it  to  the  real  Christ,  the  Lord  and  Master,  and 
thus  reconcile  that  which  is  of  the  earth  and  that 
which  is  of  heaven. 

Such  is  the  interpretation  of  the  apparently 
life  and  death  struggle  between  the  two  rival 
philosophies  of  life,  Socialism  and  the  Christian 
Religion,  as  this  has  taken  shape  in  the  mind  and 
imagination  of  the  highly-gifted  Swedish  authoress. 
But  it  is  not  in  the  form  of  philosophical  reasoning 
nor  theoretical  doctrine  that  the  writer  illuminates 
the  conflict,  but,  rather,  through  the  subtle  power 
of  symbolic  presentation,  of  which  she  is  the  past 
mistress.  The  reader  is  lured  from  chapter  to 
chapter  or,  better,  from  picture  to  picture,  until 
he  sees  with  her  eyes  the  final  triumph  and  defeat 
of  the  Anti-Christ,  which  is  to  say,  Socialism. 

Having  introduced  the  discussion  proper  by  the 
analysis  of  Frenssen's  HiUigenlei  and  Lagerlofs 
Anti-Christ — the  former  embodying  the  craving 
of  our  time  for  some  synthesis  of  life;  the  latter 
indicating  the  final  inadequacy  of  one  of  the  most 
popularly  accepted  syntheses  of  the  day — we  may 
now  turn  to  a  detailed  consideration  of  those  works 
that  expand  and  poetically  illuminate  the  con- 


52     Selma  Lagerlofs  "Anti-Christ" 

viction  to  which  both  Frenssen  and  Lagerlof 
arrive ;  namely,  that  the  longed-for  synthesis  is  to 
be  discovered  in  a  renewed  understanding  and 
appreciation  of  the  life  and  teachings  of  Jesus 
Christ.  As  indicated  in  the  general  introduction, 
the  first  main  group  of  writings  to  be  considered 
is  made  up  of  Sudermann's  John,  Rostand's 
Samaritan  Woman,  Widmann's  Saint  and  the 
Animals,  Andreyev's  Judas  Iscariot  and  the  Others. 
These  various  works  portray  and  expand  some 
event  or  phase  of  the  life  of  the  historical  Jesus. 
They  will  be  discussed  in  the  order  named. 


SUDERMANN'S  "JOHN"1 

OEVERAL  critics  of  various  recent  novels  and 
O  dramas  that  deal  with  the  character  of  Jesus 
as  the  main  theme,  have  affirmed  that,  in  spite  of 
the  unceasing  attraction  exerted  by  the  Christ 
figure  upon  artists,  it  would  never  lend  itself  to 
successful  literary  treatment.  It  may  be  that 
Sudermann  was  instinctively  conscious  of  the  real 
or  apparent  inaccessibility  of  the  Christ  person- 
ality, as  far  as  artistic  purposes  are  concerned ;  but 
being  drawn  by  the  Zeitgeist  to  the  theme  of  Jesus' 
life,  he  turned  to  the  subject  of  John  the  Baptist  as 
one  capable  of  dramatic  treatment.  The  sun- 
burned desert  hermit,  passionately,  if  not  fanati- 
cally, preaching  of  the  impending  wrath,  was  surely 
more  attractive  to  the  dramatist,  whose  first  law 
for  his  hero  is  vigorous  self-assertion,  than  the  long- 
suffering  Nazarene  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 
Although  his  drama  is  entitled  John  and  not 
"Christ,"  he,  nevertheless,  responds  to  or  antici- 
pates the  Zeitgeist,  since  this  is  virtually  a  Christ- 
drama;  for  the  main  theme  in  the  development 
of  the  action  is  to  introduce  to  the  man  from 
whose  mouth  "scorpions  and  flaming  brands  of 

1  Hermann  Sudermann,  Johannes,  eine  Tragddie  in  5  Akten, 
Stuttgart,  Cotta,  1898. 

53 


54  Sudermann's  "John" 

fire"  spring  forth,  the  simple  message:  "Thou 
shalt  love  thine  enemies. "  The  preacher  of  wrath 
and  repentance  is  to  be  silenced  by  this  mes- 
sage, strange,  undreamed-of,  but  so  simple  and 
compelling:  "Thou  shalt  love  thine  enemies." 
Through  Sudermann's  character  study,  John, 
he  has  succeeded  in  lending  to  the  well-worn 
teaching  something  of  its  primitive  appeal  and 
charm  and  wonderful  strangeness. 

Before  tracing  the  stages  through  which  John 
passes  before  he  becomes  convinced  of  the  in- 
adequacy of  his  own  message,  it  is  well  for  the 
sake  of  clearness  to  give  a  condensed  outline  of  the 
accompanying  action;  for  the  drama  under  dis- 
cussion is,  by  no  means,  simply  a  psychological 
study.  The  elemental  passions  of  love,  hate, 
revenge,  and  mob-fury  contribute  their  colours 
to  the  truly  oriental  picture. 

The  plot  is  based  upon  the  Biblical  account  of 
the  execution  of  John,  who  was  sacrificed  because 
of  the  hatred  of  Herodias,  Herod 's  brother's  wife. 
Accordingly,  when  the  daughter  of  Herodias, 
Salome,  had  won  the  favour  of  Herod  by  her 
dancing,  she,  having  been  previously  instructed  by 
her  mother,  demanded  the  head  of  John  the  Bap- 
tist, to  be  brought  in  upon  a  charger. 

Sudermann  has  elaborated  and  expanded  the 
conflict,  as  outlined  above.  John's  power  over  the 
people  is  recognised  by  Herodias,  who  summons 
him  to  a  personal  interview.  A  tribute  is  paid  to 
this  same  personal  power  by  Salome,  who  woos  him 


Sudermann's  "John"  55 

with  all  her  most  insidious  charms  and  passionate 
appeals.  John  denounces  the  mother  as  an 
adulteress  and  quietly  spurns  the  daughter,  thus 
doubly  sealing  his  fate.  He  is  ready  on  the  next 
day  to  throw  the  first  stone  at  Herod,  who  plans 
to  lead  his  unlawful  bride  into  the  sacred  precincts 
of  the  Temple.  But  at  the  critical  moment, 
John's  thoughts  are  with  the  Galilean  who  has 
just  told  him  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  and  His  strange 
teaching.  When  urged  to  throw,  he  half  mechani- 
cally raises  his  arm  and  then  lets  the  stone  fall 
from  his  hand,  "in  the  name  of  Him  .  .  .  who 
bade  me  love  you." 

When  in  prison,  John  sends  two  messengers,  to 
the  Nazarene  teacher  of  love,  to  learn  if  He  is  the 
one  who  is  to  be  sent.  The  messengers  do  not 
return  until  the  final  scene,  in  which  John  stands 
before  Herod  and  the  banqueters.  Herod  pro- 
nounces the  sentence  of  death.  Then  the  messen- 
gers tell  John  of  the  Light  and  the  Peace  that 
were  to  come  and  are  indeed  here.  Thus  he  knows 
that  his  mission  has  been  fulfilled,  for  he  had 
always  said  that  he  was  not  the  Christ,  but  the 
one  who  was  sent  to  prepare  the  way  for  Him. 

In  the  preceding  sketch  it  has  become  evident 
that  the  hero  of  the  plot  takes  his  part  in  the  rise 
and  fall  of  dramatic  emotion,  but  his  inner  life — 
although  necessarily  touched  upon  in  the  above 
outline,  as  it  is  naturally  not  extraneous  to  the 
action  proper — is  worthy  of  somewhat  detailed 


56  Sudermann's  "John" 

treatment,  contributing  as  it  does  to  the  theme 
which  we  are  attempting  to  establish. 

The  exposition  deals  with  John,  the  preacher  of 
the  impending  wrath,  the  preacher  of  the  God  of 
the  seven-coloured  rainbow,  who  is  preceded  by  the 
four  cherubim,  each  ready  for  the  awful  harvest 
of  the  wicked.  There  is  no  note  of  hesitation  or 
doubt  in  his  message:  "He  shall  come,  He  must 
come — He  must. "  And  the  promise  of  the  coming 
One  brings  cheer  and  comfort  to  the  numberless 
sick  and  poor  and  oppressed  who  surround  the 
prophet  from  the  desert,  wherever  he  appears. 
In  the  concluding  scenes  of  the  prelude,  which 
provide  a  general  setting  for  the  play,  messengers 
report  to  John  that  Herodias  and  the  priests  are 
coming  to  prepare  the  procession  of  Herod  and 
his  stolen  wife  into  the  Temple.  John  announces 
that  he  will  go  up  to  Jerusalem  the  following  day, 
in  spite  of  his  enemies,  the  Pharisees,  and  speak  a 
"priestly  word  to  the  priests,  in  the  name  of  Him 
who  is  to  come. " 

In  the  city  John's  triumphal  progress  is  unim- 
peded. He  is  hailed  as  the  deliverer  from  the 
burdensome  laws  of  the  autocratic  priesthood  and 
one,  too,  who  shall  prevent  the  sacrilege  planned 
by  Herodias  and  the  priests  for  the  morrow. 

In  the  course  of  one  of  his  exhortations,  Amasai, 
a  skilled  Pharisee,  engages  John  in  a  debate 
concerning  the  Law  and  a  possible  substitute  for 
the  Law.  John  becomes  somewhat  confused, 
as  no  new  law  has  been  given  him  to  proclaim,  and 


Sudermann's  "John"  57 

he  is  thus  easily  defeated  in  the  argument ;  although 
he  affirms  that  he  has  no  fault  to  find  with  the 
Law  but,  rather,  with  the  degrading  administra- 
tion of  it.  At  this  juncture  a  group  of  pilgrims 
pass  by,  and  one,  an  old,  heavily-laden  woman, 
chances  to  brush  against  Amasai,  who  indignantly 
bids  her  not  to  touch  him,  that  he,  a  chosen 
Pharisee,  might  not  become  impure.  Simon  of 
Galilee,  one  of  the  woman's  companions,  corrects: 
"Yes,  do  not  touch  him,  that  you  may  not  become 
impure."  This  leads  to  a  controversy  in  which 
Amasai  would  know  by  what  right  the  Galilean 
dare  make  such  a  statement,  as  he  knows  neither 
law  nor  sacrifice.  Simon  interrupts  with  the  words : 
"Higher  than  law  or  sacrifice  is  love."  The 
people  are  horror-struck  at  such  a  defamation 
and  are,  therefore,  quite  ready  to  follow  the  quiet 
admonitions  of  the  Pharisee  to  take  Simon  prisoner. 
But  John  orders  them  back  with  the  commanding 
force  of  his  personality  and  turns  in  excited,  unre- 
strained eagerness  to  the  Galilean,  demanding 
whence  came  the  knowledge  of  his  heart,  "so 
simple,  but  yet  so  fearful."  In  the  confusion 
which  ensues,  attendant  upon  the  coming  of  Herod 
and  his  following,  Simon  disappears,  as  does  also 
the  cowardly  Pharisee.  The  scene  closes  with  the 
cries  of  the  populace,  clamouring  for  help  from 
John,  the  prophet,  while  the  latter,  lost  to  all  about 
him,  broods  over  the  mysterious  word,  love. 
He  sends  after  Simon,  who  shall  tell  him  all 
he  knows;  for  his  heart  is  full  of  distrust  of 


58  Sudermann's  "John" 

the  strange  word,  but  full,  too,  of  an  unknown 
longing. 

Distrust  and  longing  are  but  intensified  by  the 
experiences  of  John  which  follow.  He  is  no  longer 
at  one  with  himself  and  his  message.  Jael,  the 
wife  of  his  most  devoted  follower,  begs  him  to  give 
back  her  husband  to  her  and  the  starving  children ; 
the  husband  who  has  neither  food  nor  love  for 
them  now.  John  asks  her  if  she,  too,  is  one  of 
those  who  believe  that  love  is  higher  than  law  or 
sacrifice.  And  he  would  become  less  harsh  and 
comfort  her,  but  the  spirit  of  the  preacher  of 
the  wrath  to  come  prevails,  and  she  departs  in 
despair. 

In  the  stirring  scene  with  Herodias,  just  after 
John  has  branded  her  with  well-deserved  contumely , 
she  turns  on  him  cold  and  scoffing  and  asks  him 
"who  he  is  that  he  will  embolden  himself  to  pass 
judgment  upon  men,  when  he  has  no  share  in  their 
lives  and  lives  not  among  them  as  a  human  being. " 
The  truth  of  the  charge  strikes  John  deeply  and 
he  is  the  more  attentive  as  she  continues:  "But 
you  seem  to  me  to  be  so  far  distant  that  the  very 
beat  of  the  human  heart  appears  to  you  to 
be  folly.  .  .  .  You,  afraid  of  all  guilt,  have  stolen 
into  the  fastnesses  of  your  desert,  and  now  you 
creep  forth  in  order  to  charge  others  with  guilt. 
The  hot  wind  has  taught  you,  perhaps,  in  your 
desert  how  to  hate  —  but  what  do  you  know 
of  those  who  live  and  die  for  the  sake  of 
love?"  John  can  only  reply:  "Even  you  speak 


Sudermann's  "John"  59 

of  love — even  you? "He  adds  later:  "You  have 
struck  well." 

After  John  returns  to  his  followers,  there  are 
two  thoughts  which  busy  his  mind : — Where  is  the 
Galilean  who  can  give  me  more  news  of  this 
haunting  word  of  love?  And  he  sends  out  messen- 
gers in  all  directions  to  search  for  Simon.  He 
begins,  secondly,  to  question  whether  he  would 
recognise  Him  who  was  to  come,  whether  the 
Messiah  will  adapt  himself  to  his  message  of 
repentance  and  wrath;  in  fact,  whether  he  is 
fitted  to  lead  men  through  the  conflicting  currents 
of  life  to  the  harbour  of  safety,  for  he  fears  that  he 
himself  may  be  destroyed. 

Then,  again,  his  soul  rises  up  in  protest  against 
this  thing  men  call  love.  He  turns  in  his  excite- 
ment on  those  who  are  urging  him  to  lay  plans  for 
the  morning,  when  Herodias  and  Herod  will  sin 
in  the  face  of  Israel — and  he  cries : 

"  I  heard  someone  speak  of  sin. — Do  you  know  in 
what  form  sin  likes  best  to  appear,  when  it  comes 
among  mankind?  Say  Pride — say  Hate,  say  what 
you  will,  and  I  shall  laugh  at  you.  Listen  and  re- 
member :  Sin  likes  best  to  call  itself  Love.  All  those 
who  are  small  and  bow  because  they  are  small — all 
who  throw  the  crumbs  from  the  table  that  they  may 
retain  the  bread — all  these  speak  of  love;  and  they 
call  it  love,  when  the  asses  are  filled  with  lust  in  the 
spring  and  when  the  hinds  cry — when  a  woman 
herself  carries  the  stones  together  with  which  the 
people  shall  kill  her  on  the  following  morning,  in 


60  Sudermann's  "John" 

order  to  commit  adultery  upon  them;  and  the  woman 
will  say:  '  See,  best  beloved,  how  sweet  is  our  couch! ' 
— that  they  call  love." 

Nevertheless,  John  has  no  ears  for  the  plotting 
of  his  friends  against  Herodias  and  the  priests. 
And  as  soon  as  he  hears  that  Simon,  the  Galilean, 
has  been  killed  by  a  zealot,  he  goes  out  into  the 
night  to  find  some  other  Galilean  pilgrim  who 
may  know  of  the  mysterious  teacher  of  Nazareth. 
John  stumbles  first  over  the  prostrate  Mesulemeth, 
who  has  taken  the  place  of  the  prophetess,  Hannah, 
and  has  watched  day  and  night  for  many  years 
for  the  return  of  the  Messiah.  With  a  sudden 
flaming  up  of  his  old  zeal,  John  tells  her  how  the 
Messiah  will  come  with  golden  armour  and  flaming 
sword  at  the  head  of  mighty  armies.  But  the 
woman  will  have  nothing  of  such  a  Messiah,  who 
will  make  Israel  bleed  the  more.  The  Messiah 
is  not  to  be  a  king  and  will  not  come  to  kings,  but 
to  the  poor  and  lowly.  "Go — thou  art  a  false 
prophet,"  and  John  whispers  to  himself — "False 
prophet. " 

As  John  goes  on  in  search  of  Galileans,  he  finally 
finds  two  fishermen,  who  have  come  from  the 
region  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  They  tell  him  of  what 
they  have  seen  and  heard  of  the  man,  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  in  whom  they  evidently  have  taken  only 
a  passing  interest.  John's  persistent  questioning 
leads  them  to  tell  of  the  astounding  teaching: — 
"Thou  shalt  love  thine  enemies  and  bless  those 


Sudermann's  "John"  61 

who  curse  thee. "  As  the  call  announcing  the 
break  of  day  and  the  morning  prayer  goes  forth 
from  the  Temple,  all  turn  toward  the  Temple  and 
fall  down  in  worship.  John,  alone,  remains  stand- 
ing, deeply  agitated  and  distraught. 

In  the  same  state  of  mind,  John  stands  later  on 
the  steps  of  the  Temple  and  finds  a  stone  in  his 
hand,  which  is  to  be  thrown  at  Herod,  the  defamcr 
of  Israel's  righteousness.  But  the  voice  of  judg- 
ment has  given  way  to  the  miraculous  voice  of 
peace  and  the  stone  glides  from  his  hand  to  the 
pavement. 

In  the  ensuing  conversation  with  Herod,  after 
John  has  been  made  prisoner,  it  becomes  evident 
that  he  is  still  uncertain  within  himself  as  to  the 
nature  of  Him  who  is  to  come.  He  knows  only 
that  his  own  services  are  no  longer  needed;  his 
power  was  broken  and  shattered  in  the  encounter 
with  Herod. 

When  the  last  and  least  of  his  followers  are 
admitted  to  him,  John  sends  them  forth  to  search 
for  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  whose  very  name  moves 
him  so  strangely,  yes,  even  frightens  him — and 
they  are  to  ask  Jesus  in  the  name  of  John  whether 
"He  is  the  one  who  is  to  come,  or  whether  they 
are  to  wait  for  another. "  As  they  go,  John  takes 
their  hands  and  these  strange  words  fall  from  his 
lips:  "It  seems  to  me — that — I — love — you." 

As  John  stands  before  Herod  in  the  final  act, 
he  requests  only  a  short  respite  before  his  death. 
He  feels  that  he  cannot  die  until  his  messengers 


62  Sudermann's  "John" 

have  returned.  Herod  permits  the  gaoler  to  lead 
the  two  faithful  followers  of  John  into  the  presence 
of  the  banqueters,  where  they  make  their  report, 
apparently  entirely  oblivious  of  their  surroundings. 
They  tell  of  the  light  of  Jesus'  countenance,  the 
joy-giving  power  of  his  smile,  and  of  the  gentleness 
of  his  speech;  and,  too,  of  his  message  to  John, 
which  concludes  with  the  words:  "Blessed  is  he 
who  is  not  filled  with  anger  against  me."  And 
these  words  cause  a  great  light  to  dawn  in  the  soul 
of  John.  He  sees  clearly  why  his  lips  are  now 
sealed,  and  why  his  kingdom  is  shattered — he  who 
would  judge  must  know  love.  In  his  last  words 
John,  the  prophet,  prophesies  "of  the  Kingdom 
of  Peace  and  the  Prince  of  Peace,  whose  sword  is 
called  Love  and  whose  battle-cry  is  Mercy.  The 
bridegroom  cometh,  and  his  voice  is  my  joy — my 
joy  is  now  fulfilled. " 


We  have  seen  how  the  simple,  unadorned 
message  of  Christ  gradually  swept  aside  the 
arguments,  protestations,  and  denials  of  John 
by  the  sheer  force  of  its  inner  truth.  "It  is  so 
simple,  but  yet  so  fearful, "  is  the  summing  up  of 
its  effect  upon  the  preacher  of  wrath.  If  Kierke- 
gaard, the  Danish  thinker,  is  not  mistaken,  the 
Christians  of  the  present  and  future  Christian  eras 
have  yet  to  discover  how  simple  and  yet  fearful 
the  message  of  Jesus  is.  It  is  undoubtedly  true 
that  modern  theologians  and  the  Church  of  to-day 


Sudermann's  "John"  63 

are  seeking  for  greater  simplicity.  Jesus,  Savon- 
arola, and  Tolstoi,  each  has  shown  that  the  results 
of  living  in  accordance  with  the  message  may 
become  fearful.  The  reader  of  Sudermann's 
drama  is  prone  to  ask  whether  John's  experience 
is  only  of  historical  interest,  whether  we  too  have 
not  to  re-discover  the  message  "so  simple  and  yet 
so  fearful"  in  its  pristine  force. 


ROSTAND'S  "THE  SAMARITAN  WOMAN"1 

IN  the  elaboration  and  dramatisation  of  the 
theme  furnished  by  the  incident  of  Jesus' 
meeting  with  the  Samaritan  woman  at  the  well  of 
Jacob,  Rostand  has  vigorously  characterised  the 
personality  and  summarised  the  teachings  of 
Christ.  He  has  made  the  waters  of  the  well  of 
Jacob  symbolic  of  the  waters  of  God's  love, 
which  shall  ultimately  inundate  the  world.  He 
has  finally  endowed  the  Samaritan  woman  with 
such  romantic  traits  of  character,  and  such  a 
passionate  nature  as  may  well  have  been  hers. 
Photine,  the  outcast  Samaritan  woman — an  out- 
cast, a  woman,  and  a  Samaritan,  in  very  fact  the 
least  of  the  least — is  well-chosen  as  a  messenger 
to  her  townspeople,  when  the  burden  of  the 
message  is  love,  forgiveness,  and  peace  of  heart  for 
the  poor,  the  sinful,  and  the  unloved.  She  comes 
to  proclaim  not  the  mighty  conqueror  sitting 
upon  a  throne  of  gold,  but,  rather,  the  humble 
wanderer,  asking  for  a  drink  of  water  and  preach- 
ing a  kingdom  not  of  this  world  but  of  the  human 
heart ;  pleading  not  for  much  prayer  and  ceremony, 
but  deeds  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God. 

1  Edmond  Rostand,  La  Samaritaine,  Evangile  in  trois  tableaux, 
Paris,  1897. 

64 


Rostand's  "  The  Samaritan  Woman  "    65 

Hall  Caine  wrote  recently  in  answer  to  certain 
criticisms  of  his  own  works:  "We  must  educate 
ourselves  to  a  more  liberal  attitude  toward  the 
imaginative  treatment  of  sacred  subjects."  The 
reader  of  Rostand's  drama  must  be  in  sympathy 
with  Hall  Caine's  attitude,  if  his  susceptibilities 
are  not  to  be  wounded  by  the  lavish  application 
of  exotic  colours,  notably  in  the  portrayal  of  the 
first  scene  at  the  well  between  Jesus  and  Photine. 
The  woman  singing  her  voluptuous  song  of  love, 
apparently  does  not  perceive  the  dust-covered 
wanderer,  as  she  approaches  the  well,  nor,  later, 
while  filling  her  urn  with  fresh  water.  And  Jesus 
makes  no  sign,  comparing  in  the  meanwhile  her 
wonderfully  beautiful  form  with  the  graceful  lines 
of  the  jug  she  carries;  but  as  He  thinks  that  the 
divine  content  has  flown  from  the  body,  which  is 
still  so  divine  in  its  beauty,  He  lifts  his  voice  and 
asks  the  departing  Samaritan  woman  for  a  drink 
from  the  urn.  She  feigns  astonishment  that  a 
Jew  should  crave  a  drink  of  water  from  a  despised 
Samaritan;  His  friendly  words,  however,  His 
incisive  questions,  and  His  "incredible  approach- 
ableness"  gradually  make  an  impression  on  the 
light  woman,  and  she  inquires  as  to  the  nature 
of  this  water  He  has  to  give,  which  will  quench 
thirst  for  all  time.  When  she  learns  and  becomes 
convinced  that  He  is  the  Christ,  the  Messiah, 
Photine  impulsively  throws  herself  at  His  feet, 
breaking  out  again  in  the  voluptuous  song  she 
had  previously  been  singing  : 

5 


66  Rostand's  "The  Samaritan  Woman" 

"  My  best  beloved — I  have  sought  thee — since  the 
morning  without  finding  thee — and  I  find  thee — and  it 
is  evening.  But  what  joy ! — for  it  is  not — altogether 
dark — my  eyes  still  can  see  thee." 

Realising  that  this  is  sacrilege,  she  cries  out  in 
shame;  but  Jesus  reassures  her  with  the  thought 
that  "He  is  always  to  some  degree  in  all  words  of 
love"  and  that  the  hearts  of  men  are  indeed 
prepared  for  love  to  Him  by  their  earthly  love. 
Her  song  of  love  has  become  a  prayer  in  His  ears. 

Again  Photine  breaks  forth  in  an  impassioned 
expression  of  what  the  water  of  life  means  to  her 
who  had  tried  so  many  ways  of  quenching  her 
thirst  for  life,  but  without  avail ;  and  she  beseeches 
Him  to  instruct  her  in  the  way  of  life.  Then 
Jesus  tells  her,  in  the  blue  air  of  the  silent  plain,  of 
the  Kingdom  of  God,  designed  for  those  who  are 
lost,  of  the  grain  of  mustard,  the  missing  jewel, 
and  finally  of  the  narrow  road.  He  teaches  her, 
too,  as  she  sits  attentively  listening  at  His  feet, 
of  the  manner  of  true  prayer. 

The  second  act  of  the  drama  takes  place  in 
Sichem.  Its  first  scenes  portray  the  efforts  of  the 
disciples  to  procure  food  of  the  Samaritan  mer- 
chants, who  persistently  refuse  to  sell  to  the 
hated  Jews.  It  is  a  busy  scene  to  which  we  are 
introduced :  the  merchants  hawking  their  wares,  the 
people  gossiping  and  jesting  loudly;  in  the  back- 
ground, the  priest  and  the  elders  of  the  city  dis- 
cussing the  propriety  of  forbidding  the  courtesan, 


Rostand's  "The  Samaritan  Woman  "  67 

Photine,  the  freedom  of  the  city;  at  one  side, 
one  of  Photine's  lovers,  searching  out  her  where- 
abouts. 

After  the  departure  of  the  disciples,  Photine 
runs  up  exhausted  and  motions  for  attention. 
Despite  the  cries  of  the  scoffers  and  the  violent 
protests  of  the  merchants,  her  astonishing  words 
and  her  astonishing  beauty  soon  attract  a  con- 
siderable group  of  listeners.  She  has  found  a 
prophet  who  told  her  all  things  that  she  had  done ; 
she  has  found  at  the  well  of  Jacob  a  man  who  must 
be  the  Messiah,  the  Christ  Himself.  As  though 
inspired  she  describes  His  beauty  and  His  majesty. 
His  voice  she  likens  to  a  summer  wind,  fraught 
with  the  notes  of  a  distant  song,  to  the  soft  sounds 
of  the  flute,  as  they  mingle  with  the  flowers  of  the 
warm  air. 

As  though  filled  with  prophetic  ecstasy,  she 
answers  readily  to  the  protestations  of  the  priest. 
She  announces  not  the  Saviour  of  the  learned  nor 
of  the  pure,  but  the  Messiah,  who  has  come  to 
love  those  whom  no  one  loves:  the  accursed,  the 
poor,  the  publicans,  the  tax-gatherers,  the  cour- 
tesans, yes,  even  the  poor  animals,  the  beaten 
dogs  and  asses. 

The  climax  of  her  appeal  is  dominated  by  the 
theme  of  love.  The  word  recurs  twenty-five  times 
in  twenty-seven  lines.  She  cites  the  words  of  Jesus, 
which  are  the  whole  Law  and  the  Prophets, 
evidently  summarising  what  He  had  told  her. 
The  summary  begins: 


68  Rostand's  "The  Samaritan  Woman  " 

Love — love — to  love! — It  is  heaven  when  one 
loves.  To  be  loved  of  the  Father,  love  your  neigh- 
bour. Give  all  for  love.  Share  your  bread  with 
your  friend,  if  he  comes  in  the  night  to  demand  it. 
It  is  my  religion  to  love  him  who  discourages  love. 
If  one  beats  you,  do  not  pray  against  but  for  him.— 
Love  the  ungrateful  as  your  only  son.  Love  your 
enemies,  you  will  be  my  friends.  Love  much,  for  it 
will  be  remitted  to  you.  Still  love.  Always  love. 
Even  love — When  one  loves,  it  is  necessary  that  one 
sacrifice  one's  life  for  love.  I  shall  show  you  some  day 
how  one  loves.  Love!  Have  only  love  in  your 
hearts !  Love  one  another ! 

As  this  unheard-of  doctrine  penetrates  into  the 
minds  of  Photine's  hearers,  they  fall  to  their 
knees  and  cry  out,  "The  Christ!"  "The  Son  of 
David!"  "The  King  of  Heaven!"  They  de- 
mand that  Photine  lead  them  out  to  the  man  at  the 
well.  But  she  refuses  to  go  until  the  whole  city 
shall  follow  her.  With  that  she  departs  through 
the  streets,  crying  out  snatches  of  the  teachings  of 
Jesus,  which  consist  for  the  most  part  in  para- 
phrases of  the  Beatitudes. 

During  the  absence  of  Photine  and  her  enthusias- 
tic followers,  the  Roman  Centurion  has  been 
summoned  at  the  instigation  of  the  priest,  on  the 
ground  that  a  woman  is  preaching  sedition  and 
disturbing  the  peace.  The  troops  arrive  and  on 
her  reappearance  arrest  Photine  and  disperse  the 
crowd.  As  soon,  however,  as  the  Centurion  is 
acquainted  with  the  nature  of  the  doctrine  she  is 


Rostand's  "The  Samaritan  Woman"    69 

spreading  about,  he  orders  that  she  be  freed. 
It  seems  that  he  had  already  seen  Jesus  and  heard 
Him  say:  "To  Caesar,  that  which  belongs  to 
Caesar";  and  thus  he  knows  that  His  doctrine  is 
not  seditious  nor  even  to  be  taken  seriously. 
"  It  is  nothing.  It  is  Jesus.  Come,  unbind  her, " 
he  says,  turning  to  his  soldiers. 

But,  with  the  announcement  that  Jesus  teaches 
that  one  shall  pay  to  Caesar  what  is  Caesar's  due, 
dissatisfaction  has  spread  among  the  crowd  and 
Photine  is  forced  to  win  back  her  followers.  She 
urges  that  she  has  not  spoken  of  a  temporal  king- 
dom, but  the  kingdom  founded  by  God  himself, 
"at  first,  to  a  slight  degree,  in  each  one  and  then 
in  its  entirety  in  heaven. — You  have  only  to  wish 
it  and  the  reign  begins.  For  all !  For  all !  A  lit- 
tle love,  a  little  faith,  and  you  shall  see,  oh !  what 
a  beautiful  kingdom!"  This  final  appeal  over- 
comes all  opposition.  Even  those  who  do  not 
believe  are  ready  to  follow  her,  to  see  the 
wonderful,  pale  stranger,  sitting  at  the  well  of 
Jacob. 

The  third  act  is  introduced — just  as  the  first 
and  second  were — with  reference  to  the  bitterness 
and  ill-feeling  which  prevail  between  the  Samari- 
tans and  Jews.  The  latter  despised  and  scorned 
the  former ;  these,  in  turn,  hated  with  an  unabating 
hate.  It  appears  as  though  the  author  had  laid 
particular  stress  upon  the  unworthiness  of  the 
Samaritans  in  the  eyes  of  the  Jews — an  unworthi- 
ness of  which  they  themselves  seemed  conscious — 


70  Rostand's  "The  Samaritan  Woman" 

so  that  he  might  the  better  point  the  sentiment, 
uttered  on  two  occasions  to  the  disciples:  "It 
will,  however,  be  necessary  that  ye  accustom  your- 
selves to  this,  that  to  me  the  last  shall  be  first 
and  the  first,  last."  This  statement  had  been 
provoked  the  first  time  by  Peter's  criticism  that 
Jesus  had  conversed  with  the  Samaritan  woman, 
and  with  just  this  Samaritan  woman:  "And  think 
that  He  has  chosen  the  last  city  of  the  last  people, 
and  in  the  whole  city  a  woman,  and  among  all 
women,  the  last. "  It  is  this  phase  of  the  message 
of  Jesus  which  impresses  itself  upon  the  reader 
with  particular  emphasis,  that  He  feels  Himself 
to  be  sent  to  the  last  and  the  least,  as  a  messenger 
of  hope  and  of  mercy. 

Just  as  Jesus  is  speaking  of  the  whitening  harvest, 
the  dust  rises  in  the  direction  of  Sichem  and  the 
sounds  of  singing  voices  echo  across  the  fields  to  the 
ears  of  the  astonished  disciples — voices  singing 
in  honour  of  Him  who  should  come,  and  bidding 
the  earth  and  all  its  inhabitants,  the  whole  sea 
and  all  that  dwell  therein  to  rise  up  and  dance, 
the  mountains  to  move  and  the  rivers  to  go  forth 
from  their  beds,  to  applaud  the  Eternal  One. 
As  the  people  come  into  view,  the  watchers  at  the 
well  see  the  waving  olive  branches,  the  dancing 
children,  and  the  crutches  of  the  beggars,  bedecked 
with  flowers;  and  before  all,  a  woman's  form, 
dishevelled  and  covered  with  flowers.  It  is  a 
supreme  moment  for  Photine,  as  she  announces 
her  great  success;  for  every  house  in  Sichem  is 


Rostand's  "The  Samaritan  Woman"   71 

deserted,  and  even  those  who    doubted    believe 
that  He  is  indeed  the  Christ. 

Thereupon,  Jesus  blesses  the  outcast  Samaritans, 
assuring  them  that  there  is  but  one  flock  of  sheep 
in  the  whole  world  and  but  one  Shepherd.  The 
old,  the  blind,  and  the  sinners  come  to  Him  for 
succour,  and  He  gives  them  all  relief.  The  priest 
alone,  is  rebuked  for  his  pr  de,  and  his  requests 
for  lofty  temples,  embroidered  robes,  elaborate 
ceremonies  are  curtly  set  aside.  For  His  temple 
is  in  the  world  of  nature,  wherever  the  worshipper 
may  be.  His  ceremonies  are  good  deeds;  prayers 
to  Him  shall  be  in  secret  places,  without  great 
show  and  many  words;  and  through  the  mouth 
of  Photine  He  teaches  them  finally  the  words  of 
His  prayer. 

G.  Stanley  Lee  has  made  the  statement  that  the 
Gospel  consisted  in  knowing  Jesus ;  and  redemption 
in  living  with  Him.  He  might  well  have  made 
this  deduction  from  Rostand's  drama;  for  the 
latter  has  brushed  aside  all  intellectual  doctrine, 
all  outward  form,  and  has  portrayed,  in  the 
relationship  between  Jesus  and  Photine,  the 
personal  power  of  the  former  and  the  simplicity 
of  His  message.  The  Jesus  of  Rostand's  drama 
is  the  same  as  the  Jesus  of  Sudermann's  John. 
The  difference  consists  therein  that  we  actually 
see  Him  in  La  Samaritaine  in  the  midst  of  His 
activity — which  consisted  simply  in  meeting  and 
talking  with  men  and  women  on  the  basis  of 


72  Rostand's  "The  Samaritan  Woman" 

equality  and  good  fellowship — for  He  loved  men 
and  women,  and  by  contagion  He  taught  them  not 
to  believe  primarily,  but  to  live  and  to  love.1 
This  the  dramatist  seems  to  say.  His  teaching 
is  no  system  of  theology,  nor  a  doctrine  of  philoso- 
phy— it  consists  in  knowing  Him  and  living  with 
Him  whose  watchword  is  love. 

•Oscar  Wilde  (De  Profundis,  p.  93)  has  written  of  Christ:  "He 
does  not  really  teach  one  anything,  but  by  being  brought  into 
His  presence  one  becomes  something." 


WIDMANN'S  "THE  SAINT  AND  THE 
ANIMALS"1 


J 


OHANN  VIKTOR   WIDMANN   has  under- 
^      taken  in  the  shadow-play,  The  Saint  and  the 
Animals,  to  visualise  in  concrete  action  the  nature 
of  the  temptations  which  Jesus,  the  hermit  of  the 
desert,    underwent    during    the   period    of    forty 
days  and  nights,  of  which  a  summary,  but  scant 
and  unsatisfactory,  account  is  given  in  the  Gospel 
according  to  Mark.     These  days  of  restless  doubt- 
ing and  questioning  as  to  the  purpose  of  life  and 
His  mission  in  it,  the  days  in  which  He  sought 
to  establish  a  harmony  between  His  individual 
life   and   the   world-life   are  peculiarly   fitted 
denote  the  limitations  to  which  Jesus  was  forced 
to  submit  as  a  man.     Widmann  follows,   thus, 
most  modern  theologians  in  that  he  emphasise 
the  human  rather  than  the  divine  nature 
founder  of  Christianity. 

Not  alone  on  account  of  the  theme,  but  also 
account  of  the  treatment  of  the  temptation-period, 
Widmann  deserves  a  place  among  those  writers 
who   may   properly   be   styled    "modernists 
literature.     He  has  essayed  to  represent  the  att 
tude  of  Jesus,  as  He  stood  face  to  face  with  t 

.  J.  V.  Widmann,  Der  Heilige  und  die  Thiere,  Frauenfeld,  1907. 


74    Widmann's  "Saint  and  Animals" 

inevitable,  the  fundamental,  and  the  insoluble 
problem  of  life,  the  problem  of  evil.  He  whose 
message  was  to  be  the  fatherhood — that  is,  the 
infinite  goodness  and  love  of  the  all-powerful 
God — must  needs  reconcile  all-power  and  goodness 
with  the  indisputable  omnipresent  evil.  It  is  at 
once  apparent  that  the  Son  of  Man,  who  is  to  live 
among  men  with  the  limitations  of  his  kind, 
should  fairly  face  the  ever-recurring  question: 
If  God  is  good,  why  the  evil  in  life?  It  will  not  be 
denied  that  this  question  is  actually  more  vital 
in  the  mind  of  the  thinking  man  to-day  than  the 
questions  of  supernatural  gifts  or  worldly  power, 
which  were  involved  in  the  efforts  of  Satan  to 
tempt  Christ  in  the  desert.  Although  Widmann 
cleverly  introduces  the  three  temptations  of  the 
Biblical  narrative  into  the  culminating  scene 
between  Jesus  and  Asasel,  the  Satan  of  the  Desert, 
they  naturally  assume  a  subordinate  position 
with  respect  to  the  main  temptation — to  doubt 
God's  goodness  and  His  own  mission,  because  of 
the  suffering,  sorrow,  and  death  in  the  world  of 
innocent  animals.  Although  they  but  live  out  the 
law  of  their  own  being,  they  still  attest  at  a  thou- 
sand wounds  to  the  mercilessness  or  weakness  of 
the  God  who,  as  Asasel  puts  it,  "has  dreamed  this 
sorry  scheme  of  things  in  a  violent  fever." 

The  puppets  of  the  shadow-play  are  manipu- 
lated and  the  text  is  improvised  by  a  radical- 
minded  preacher,  who  gives  vent  to  the  indigna- 
tion that  he  has  felt  at  a  scene  of  purposeless 


Widmann's  "Saint  and  Animals"    75 

cruelty,  enacted  during  the  afternoon  walk  by  his 
own  dog.  The  audience  is  made  up  of  two  tramp- 
ing theological  students  and  the  sister  of  the 
pastor. 

The  action  consists  in  the  attempt  of  Asasel, 
the  "  Desert- Devil, "  to  win  the  Saint,  or  Jesus — 
as  a  number  of  very  skilfully  introduced  allusions 
make  clear — from  His  mission  to  mankind,  where- 
by, as  Asasel  expresses  it,  a  vast  world-movement 
is  to  be  initiated,  a  pushing,  lifting,  shoving  of 
mankind,  which  he  likens  to  the  irregular  but 
powerful  motion  of  the  ship  when  it  is  being 
launched.  Asasel  fears  that  the  glowing,  red  blood 
of  men  is  to  be  thinned  and  watered,  that  the  world, 
which  he  likens  to  a  beautiful,  passionate  courte- 
san, is  to  be  deformed  into  a  melancholic,  anaemic 
nun.  Accordingly,  he  enlists  the  services  of  the 
matchless  Lilith  to  divert  the  attention  of 
the  "sun-crowned  man,"  as  the  animals  call  the 
stranger  in  their  midst,  from  inaugurating  so  dis- 
astrous a  movement.  Asasel  purposes  to  open 
the  eyes  of  the  "waking  dreamer"  to  the  manifold 
experiences  of  the  habitants  of  the  desert,  by 
means  of  the  magical  ring  of  Solomon.  Through 
the  acquaintance  with  their  pain  and  suffering, 
he  hopes  that  the  tender-hearted  Saint  will  be 
moved  to  devote  Himself  toward  alleviating  their 
misfortunes,  or  mayhap  to  offer  Himself  a  sacri- 
fice for  the  animal-world.  At  least,  he  anticipates 
that  the  Saint  will  not  have  the  courage  to  devote 
Himself  to  men,  whose  state  is  so  much  more 


76  Widmann's  "Saint  and  Animals" 

hopeless  than  that  of  the  animals,  because  of  their 
sinful  nature. 

Lilith,  in  tfye  form  of  a  dove,  lays  the  ring  at  the 
feet  of  the  Saint  at  a  very  propitious  moment, 
when  the  latter  is  disheartened  at  the  increasing 
silence  of  the  desert-world  and  when  he  is  question- 
ing the  purpose  of  the  Spirit  which  had  moved 
Him  to  betake  Himself  into  the  boundless  waste 
of  sand.  It  is  true  that  black  eyes  have  looked 
up  at  Him  from  the  sand,  but  never  with  a  message 
to  His  heart.  So  He  is  glad  to  draw  on  the  ring, 
in  spite  of  certain  indistinct  misgivings  and  the 
half -warning  of  the  dove  messenger. 

Once  in  possession  of  the  ring,  the  world  is 
transformed.  Even  the  song  of  the  gnats  echoes 
intelligibly  in  the  ears  of  the  wondering  hermit, 
as  they  sing  of  the  joys  of  light  and  warmth  and 
of  the  fear  of  the  coming  darkness.  As  is  evident, 
the  real  action  of  the  drama  begins  here.  The 
Saint  feels  now  that  the  Spirit  sent  Him  into  the 
desert  to  learn  why  the  desert  weeps,  that  He 
might  know  the  better  how  to  wipe  away  the  tears 
of  men.  In  a  series  of  scenes,  the  raven,  the  fox, 
the  snake,  and  finally  the  lion  contribute,  each  his 
share,  towards  demonstrating  to  the  perplexed 
and  despairing  observer  the  uncompromising 
relentlessness  of  the  law  of  the  desert:  to  live, 
thou  must  kill.  The  law  of  life  is  death. 

In  the  first  of  these  scenes,  as,  in  fact,  through- 
out the  drama  proper,  the  author  gives  evidence  of 
a  truly  noteworthy  power  of  insight  into  the 


Widmann's  "Saint  and  Animals"    77 

characteristic  phases  of  the  animal  soul.  The 
ravens  which  he  portrays  are  actually  individuals, 
but,  at  the  same  time,  true  in  all  respects  to  the 
raven  type.  The  reader  instinctively  feels  that 
ravens  would  rout  out  a  hare,  would  gradually 
fatigue  and  disable  him  in  just  the  way  described, 
and  no  other.  Our  sympathy  goes  out  to  the  hare, 
as  he  cries  in  his  last  extremity,  "Pfsez,"  "Mur- 
der," "Help," — cries  which,  all  too  late,  summon 
the  Saint  to  his  side,  only  to  hear  his  final  words : 
"We  all  die  thus."  Thereupon  follows  the 
colloquy  between  the  deeply-stirred  Saint  and  the 
ravens,  who  are  indignant  and  disrespectful 
because  their  orgy  has  been  interrupted.  They 
have  no  sympathy  with  this  man  who  talks 
"Rabisch,"  but  cannot  think  "Rabisch"  (the 
Raven  language),  and  who  wishes  to  teach  them 
mores.  Ureb,  who  typifies  a  combination  of  raven 
intelligence  with  animal  utilitarianism,  is  largely 
responsible  for  the  conviction,  which  gradually 
takes  form  in  the  mind  of  the  Saint,  that  God  has 
ordained  that  life  shall  feed  upon  life;  that  Cain's 
fratricide  is  the  established  law.  In  deep  emotion, 
He  draws  to  one  side,  meditating  upon  the  painful 
contrast  between  this  sorrowful  and  blood-stained 
world  and  the  world  of  peace,  which  He  would 
erect,  if  He  but  knew  how. 

In  the  House  of  the  Animals — the  deserted  ruins 
of  a  one-time  palace  scattered  about  on  the  edge 
of  a  filthy  pool — the  prophet  is  to  hear  more  of  the 
conventions  of  the  animal-world.  The  hedgehog, 


78  Widmann's  " Saint  and  Animals" 

the  fox,  the  mole,  the  grasshopper,  and  the  snake 
conjoin  to  make  manifest  a  variety  of  phases  of 
animal  life.  Lust,  cruelty,  injustice,  malignity, 
hate,  and  fear  are  the  qualities  which  have  been 
implanted  in  the  natures  of  these  animals  in  the 
form  of  instinct.  The  snake — the  arch-enemy  of 
man — decries  scoffingly  the  fable  of  the  God- 
Father  "who  has  thought  of  all  His  creatures," 
and  he  scorns  the  wisdom  of  the  Saint,  assuring 
Him  that  He  has  not  yet  seen  into  the  heart  of 
life,  otherwise  He  would  have  perceived  that  the 
world  is  not  good. 

At  this  juncture,  the  king  of  beasts  appears, 
wounded  unto  death  by  the  arrows  and  spears  of 
those  men  who  have  taken  captive  both  his  mate 
and  offspring.  With  rapidly  failing  strength  he 
drags  his  body  to  the  pool  of  foul  water  in  the 
House  of  the  Animals.  The  Man  of  the  Sun- 
shield,  as  the  lion  has  called  Him,  gives  him  to 
drink  and  hears  again,  in  the  dying  words  of  the 
desert  monarch,  of  the  sad  lie  of  life — a  life  where 
there  is  no  peace.  The  old  hero,  as  the  fox  in  a 
fleeting  moment  of  reverence  calls  him,  takes  a 
truly  royal  farewell  of  the  world  he  has  known, 
before  he  succumbs  to  the  inevitable  foe  of  all — 
death. 

Finally,  convinced  that  the  inner  depths  of  the 
secret  of  this  world  are  impenetrable  to  Him,  that 
the  power  of  love  is  here  incapable  of  forcing  the 
power  of  blood,  the  Saint  departs  into  a  high 
mountain,  where  He  may  be  nearer  the  breath  of 


Widmann's  "Saint  and  Animals"    79 

God,  before  He  shall  leave  the  desert  for  the 
habitations  of  His  kind. 

The  concluding  scene  is  entitled,  "The  Mount  of 
Temptation."  Its  key-note  is  sounded  by  the 
dying  thrush,  who  has  sought  the  peace  and  soli- 
tude of  the  mountain-top  for  its  final  resting-place. 
Though  blinded  through  age,  its  song  is  of  the  sun, 
which  it  no  longer  sees,  and  of  the  life,  from  which 
it  is  about  to  depart.  This  life  has  been  full  of  joy 
and  of  sorrow,  of  cares  and  privations,  of  love  and 
loss  and  death;  but,  still,  at  the  end  it  appears 
only  fair  and  bright  and  beautiful. 

The  thrush's  simple  song  of  praise  and  thanks- 
giving touches  the  heart  of  the  Saint  to  the  quick. 
Its  undertone  of  suffering  and  sadness  seems  to  be 
but  a  sorry  echo  of  His  message  of  the  all -pervading 
love  of  God.  Simultaneously  with  this  thought 
Asasel  appears  at  His  side  and  takes  occasion  to 
scornfully  denounce  the  Creator  of  the  Universe, 
who  has  so  pitifully  botched  His  work.  The 
discord,  suffering,  imperfections  in  the  world,  he 
styles  the  "sins  of  God."  His  blasphemies, 
passing  the  bounds  of  belief,  strike  the  Saint 
aghast  and  dumb.  But  the  latter  finally  asks 
the  tempter  what  solution  he  would  offer  for  the 
problem  of  life.  With  this  request  Asasel's 
hoped-for  opportunity  has  come,  the  opportunity 
to  tempt  the  dreamer  from  instituting  the  new 
world-movement.  The  suggestions  of  Asasel 
are  three  in  number,  each  concluding  with  one  of 
the  temptations  as  reported  by  Mark. 


8o    Widmann's  "  Saint  and  Animals  " 

In  the  first  place,  Asasel  urges  the  Saint  to 
devote  himself  to  alleviating  the  suffering  of  the  in- 
nocent animals ;  and  he  draws  an  effective  contrast 
between  the  animals  and  man — the  worst  animal 
of  them  all,  surpassing  all  others  in  cruelty,  in 
fleshly  lust,  and  coarse  appetite.  He  announces 
that  the  Saint's  message  of  love  will,  in  the  world 
of  men,  bring  Him  only  torture  and  martyrdom. 
The  Saint  expresses  the  conviction,  which  had 
come  to  Him  after  the  death  of  the  lion,  that 
death  alone  can  mitigate  the  sufferings  of  the 
animals.  Asasel  grants  that,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  their  sufferings  are  incurable; 
but  the  Saint,  he  insinuatingly  adds,  is  no  ordinary 
mortal.  It  may  be,  in  fact,  that  He  can  perform 
the  impossible.  Let  Him  but  try  to  turn  the 
stone  to  bread  that  He  may  prove  His  power  over 
nature. 

As  the  Saint  is  in  no  wise  moved  to  violate  the 
sacred  laws  of  nature,  the  false  counsellor  recalls 
to  his  mind  the  thought,  which  was  aroused  by  the 
death  of  the  hare,  that  mayhap  He  might  give  up 
His  life  of  free  accord,  thus  breaking  the  iron 
power  of  death,  and  Asasel  urges  Him — the  Son 
of  God,  not  subject  to  the  law  of  death — to  throw 
Himself  into  the  abyss.  But  the  Saint  affirms 
His  belief  in  the  Eternal  Love  and  charges  His 
previous  indecision  to  the  insidious  power  of  the 
ring,  which  He  straightway  throws  into  the  chasm 
before  Him. 

Asasel  expresses  his  disappointment  that  the 


Widmann's  "Saint  and  Animals"    81 

Saint  has  really  so  little  sympathy  for  the  hopeless 
state  of  the  animals,  but  is  rather  moved  appar- 
ently by  considerations  of  self-interest.  He  presses 
Him,  therefore,  to  be  entirely  what  he  seems  to 
be — selfish ;  to  put  away  all  impulses  of  sympathy 
and  lay  hold  of  life  without  restraint.  He  shows 
Him  the  world  at  their  feet  and  offers  Him  the 
kingdoms  of  the  earth,  on  the  one  condition — 
that  He  shall  fall  at  his  feet  and  do  homage  to  him 
as  king.  With  a  cry  of  scorn  at  Satan's  empty 
stupidity  and  shallow  falsity,  thus  to  appeal  to 
Him,  the  Saint  orders  His  vanquished  opponent  to 
depart  from  the  pure  air  of  God's  mountain. 

Asasel  gives  way  to  the  triumphant  chorus  of 
angels,  who  descend  upon  the  mountain  in  an 
endless  stream  of  brightness.  They  sing  the 
victorious  song  of  light  and  joy  and  life.  But 
the  light  of  their  eyes  reminds  the  Saint  of  the 
staring,  horror-stricken  eyes  of  His  desert  com- 
panions, eyes  filled  with  the  awful  darkness  of 
death.  And  He  asks  the  Archangels  whether  these 
eyes,  too,  reflect  the  light  of  joy  in  some  second 
home,  where  peace  and  happiness  shall  reign.  The 
angels  can  only  answer  that  the  final  secrets  of 
existence  are  unknown  to  them.  They  see  about 
them  everywhere  the  eternal  process  of  birth,  of 
life,  of  death — each  accompanying  the  other;  they, 
too,  wait  quietly  until  the  time  is  full. 

Turning  to  the  Saint,  Gabriel  announces  that 
His  time  is  now  come,  that  the  world  of  men  await 
His  message  of  life,  hope,  and  love;  the  world  of 

6 


82  Widmann's  "Saint  and  Animals" 

men,  weighed  down  with  cares  and  grief,  with 
remorse  and  fear,  with  passions  and  lust ;  but,  too, 
the  world  of  men  called  to  become  the  very  sons 
and  daughters  of  God;  this  world  is  His  world. 
The  Saint  turns  His  face  to  the  desert  once  again 
to  take  leave  of  His  former  companions,  living  and 
dying.  His  heart  goes  out  to  them  in  sympathy, 
but,  also,  in  grateful  remembrance;  for  they  have 
taught  Him  in  their  simple  way  the  one  great 
truth:  "Be  true  to  thyself  and  endure,  even 
though  innocent." 


LEONID  ANDREYEV'S  "JUDAS  ISCARIOT 
AND  THE  OTHERS'" 

A  WORK  of  Leonid  Andreyev,  who  is  recognised 
by  many  competent  judges  to  be  the  most 
gifted  Russian  author  living,  may  appropriately 
serve  as  representative  of  the  religious  and  Christ- 
ward  trend  that  has  long  been  prominent  in  the 
literature  of  Russia.  Although  for  an  adequate 
appreciation  of  Andreyev's  attitude  toward  matters 
religious,  the  trilogy 2  should  be  taken  into  account 
to  which  Judas  Iscariot  and  the  Others  virtually 
forms  the  epilogue.  Nevertheless,  the  novel 
under  consideration  will  suffice  to  indicate  that 
the  master  Russian  novelist,  together  with  his 
contemporaries  in  other  countries,  turns  his  eyes 
also  toward  the  shores  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  and 
the  environs  of  Jerusalem. 

It  is  undoubtedly  more  characteristic  of  the 
Russian  than  any  other  modern  literature,  that 
the  ultimate  problems  of  being  and  destiny,  as 
such,  have  often  provided  the  material  for  literary 
treatment.  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  An- 
dreyev, who  has  a  remarkable  power  in  beholding 

1  Leonid  Andreyev,  Judas  Ischariot  und  die  Andern.     (Uber- 
setzung  von  Otto  Buck),  Berlin. 

2  The  Life  of  Father  Vassily  Fiveisky,  Sawa,  The  Lije  of  Man. 

83 


84        Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot" 

and  transforming  the  abstractions  of  life  to  meet 
the  conditions  of  art,  saw  in  Jesus  and  Judas,  not 
alone  the  principal  actors  in  the  tragedy  of  man- 
kind, but  also  the  symbols  of  the  two  inimical 
forces  of  life,  good  and  evil.  He  thus  rises  above 
the  sphere  of  the  temporal  and  transient  of  the 
individual  characters  to  that  of  the  fundamental 
and  final.  Jesus,  the  good  and  beautiful,  attracts 
and  is  attracted  by  Judas,  the  evil  and  ugly  one. 
The  one  supplements  the  other,  but  each  seeks  at 
the  same  time  to  be  possessed  of  the  other.  The 
evil  conquers,  in  that  it  destroys.  It  finds, 
nevertheless,  its  own  defeat,  in  that  it  itself  perishes 
in  the  hour  of  victory.  Jesus  lives,  immortal  in 
the  memory  of  man.  Judas  dies  anew  whenever 
the  story  of  the  betrayal  of  the  Master  is  recited. 
Like  Mephistopheles,  he  has  willed  the  evil  but 
accomplished  the  good. 

Thus  Andreyev  has  sought  not  so  much  to 
rescue  and  explain  Judas,  as  he  has  instinctively 
found  in  these  two  historical  characters  an  essen- 
tial and  basic  antagonism,  an  antagonism  which  is 
closely  allied  to  mutual  attraction.  The  attrac- 
tion as  well  as  the  antagonism,  felt  by  Jesus 
toward  Judas,  is  rather  suggested  than  definitely 
denoted,  whereas  the  conflict  between  these  two  so 
diverse  forces  in  the  heart  of  Judas  is  presented 
with  compelling  clearness.  Keenly  and  relentlessly 
the  author  analyses  the  inmost  soul  of  the  traitor. 
The  latter,  therefore,  occupies  the  most  prominent 
place  in  the  novel,  although  Jesus,  who  silently 


Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot"        85 

moves  in  and  out  of  the  scene,  seems  to  be  equally 
important.  Judas  grows  and  goes  only  with 
respect  to  the  silent  Master.  His  love  for  Jesus 
both  crucifies  Him  and  transfigures  Him  anew. 
Two  quotations  will  suffice  to  indicate  this  strange 
relationship. 

As  Judas  goes  out  to  make  the  final  plans  for 
the  betrayal  of  the  Master,  he  cries  in  the  anguish 
of  his  soul: 

"  But  Thou  dost  know  that  I  love  Thee.  Thou  dost 
know  all  things!  Why  dost  Thou  look  thus  upon  me? 
The  secret  of  Thy  glorious  eyes  is  great,  but  is  mine 
less  so?  Master,  Master,  command  me  not  to  go. 
But  Thou  keepest  ever  silent.  Have  I  sought  Thee 
with  longing  and  suffering  only  for  this,  sought  Thee 
my  whole  life  long?  Sought  and  found?  Oh,  save 
me !  Take  it  from  me,  this  burden ;  it  weighs  heavier 
upon  me  than  a  mountain  and  a  lump  of  lead.  Dost 
Thou  not  hear  how  the  breast  of  Judas  Iscariot  groans 
and  strains  under  it?" 

After  Judas  has  pressed  the  fateful  kiss  upon  the 
cold  cheek  of  the  Master,  and  Jesus  has  asked  him 
whether  he  would  betray  the  Son  of  Man  with  a 
kiss,  Judas,  in  spite  of  the  chaotic  tumult  in  his 
breast,  replies  with  proud  dignity: 

"  Yes,  with  the  kiss  of  love  we  betray  Thee!  With 
the  kiss  of  love  we  commit  Thee  to  mockery,  torture, 
and  death !  With  the  voice  of  love  we  summon  from 
their  dark  lairs  all  the  hangmen  of  the  earth  to  erect 


86        Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot" 

a  cross  and  to  crucify  Thee,  and  high  above  the 
pinnacle  of  the  earth,  we  lift  up  love,  crucified  by  love. " 

Judas's  passion  for  the  Master  has  led  him  to  such 
an  extremity  that  he  deliberately  plans  his  execu- 
tion. He  has  conceived  the  idea  that  the  cruci- 
fixion of  Christ  will  afford  him  an  opportunity 
whereby  he  can  conclusively  prove  that  he  alone 
is  faithful — even  unto  death.  For,  he  thinks,  who 
of  the  "Others"  will  dare  seek  a  place  beside  Him, 
crucified.  They  two  shall  be  forever  united  in  the 
awful  solitude  of  death,  "high  above  the  pinnacle 
of  the  earth." 

An  enigmatic,  demoniacal  spirit  of  contradiction, 
of  perverseness  pervades  the  character  of  Judas 
from  the  very  beginning,  when  he  seeks,  for  in- 
stance, by  flattery  and  servility  to  enlist  the 
affections  of  Jesus  and  His  followers.  Then, 
suddenly,  he  turns  upon  the  disciples,  scoffs  at 
them,  and  seeks  to  irritate  and  offend  them,  until 
they  drive  him  off.  But,  in  spite  of  his  apparently 
natural  propensities,  in  spite  of  his  reputation  as  a 
liar  and  thief,  and  in  spite  of  his  unspeakable 
ugliness,  which  had  gained  for  him  the  sobriquet 
— the  one-eyed  devil — Jesus  made  Judas  a  member 
of  the  inner  circle  of  His  Apostles,  in  the  pure 
spirit  of  contradiction — the  spirit  that  impelled 
Him  to  associate  with  the  outcast  and  loveless. 
His  followers  complained  a  bit.  "But  He  sat 
there  quietly,  looked  over  toward  the  setting  sun, 
and  listened  thoughtfully — perhaps  He  was  lis- 


Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot"        87 

tening  to  them;  perhaps,  too,  He  was  listening 
to  something  else. "  It  is  in  just  this  way  that  the 
Master  exerted  a  controlling  influence  throughout 
the  action.  In  all  that  is  said  or  done  one  feels, 
directly  or  indirectly,  the  potent  force,  the  in- 
spiration and  mysterious  appeal  of  His  presence. 

Jesus  had  always  had  a  friendly  glance  for 
Judas,  and  often  laughed  at  his  extravagant 
fabrications — for  Judas  made  of  life  either  a 
comical  or  fearful  fairy-tale — until  Judas  brought 
it  about  one  day  through  a  theft  that  the  villagers 
of  a  certain  town  denounced  Jesus  and  His  little 
band  as  thieves  and  impostors.  From  that  time 
on,  Jesus  treated  Judas  with  a  strange  indifference. 
He  would  look  at  him  apparently  without  seeing 
him.  "And  for  all  He  was  a  delicate,  beautiful 
flower,  a  wonderfully  sweet-scented  rose  of  Leb- 
anon, only  toward  Judas  did  He  turn  the  sharp 
thorns," — and  then  the  author  adds,  as  it  were  in 
the  person  of  Judas — "as  though  Judas  had  no 
heart  and  no  eye  and  no  nose,  and  as  though  he 
did  not  understand  better  than  all  the  others  the 
beauty  of  the  delicate  and  untainted  petals. " 

Thus  it  gradually  came  about  that  Judas  loved 
Jesus  with  a  wonderful  love  and  hated  Him,  too, 
with  a  strange  hate.  He  who  recognised  instinc- 
tively and  ever  so  deeply  the  beauty  and  goodness 
of  the  Master,  who  knew  Him  to  be  the  true  Son 
of  God,  was  deemed  unworthy  of  the  merest  glance. 
He  felt  that  neither  John  nor  Peter  was  fitted  to 
sit  at  Jesus'  right  hand,  but  only  he.  In  such  a 


88        Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot" 

state  of  inner  discord,  Judas  came  at  one  time 
into  Lazarus'  house,  where  Jesus  was  talking  to  the 
chosen  Apostles  and  his  nearest  friends.  Judas 
cast  a  scornful  glance  at  the  little  audience  and 
directed  his  eyes  with  the  whole  passion  of  his 
passionate  nature  toward  Jesus.  As  he  looked 
at  Him,  everything  disappeared ;  all  was  concealed 
with  night  and  the  stillness  of  death, — Jesus  stood 
there  alone,  a  shining  figure,  with  uplifted  hand. 
Then  He,  too,  became  like  unto  a  cloud  of  fog, 
illuminated  only  by  the  setting  moon;  but  His 
gentle  voice  sounded  soft  and  low  as  though  from  a 
great  distance.  After  this,  Judas  seemed  to  him- 
self to  be  heaping  masses  of  rock  and  stone,  in  the 
darkness  of  his  soul,  one  upon  another,  mount- 
ains upon  mountains,  untiring,  unceasing — and  all 
the  time,  out  of  the  distance,  echoed  the  sweet 
melody  of  gentle,  dream-like  words.  Suddenly 
Jesus  broke  off  with  a  hard  and  unfinished  sound 
and  looked  with  a  fixed  glance  at  the  powerful, 
black  figure  standing  in  the  door,  and  Judas 
shuddered  and  gave  forth  a  cry  of  fright.  Jesus 
came  straight  toward  him  and  upon  His  lips  there 
was  a  word,  but  He  did  not  speak  as  He  went  past 
Judas  into  the  open  air  beyond.  Thus  the  in- 
herent antipathy  between  good  and  evil  became 
unmistakably  apparent.  The  time  for  reconcilia- 
tion as  well  as  compromise  was  irrevocably  past. 
At  midnight  of  the  same  night,  Thomas,  who 
was  most  intimate  with  Judas,  came  to  him  and 
heard  his  words  of  trouble  and  anger. 


Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot"        89 

"Why  does  He  not  love  me?  Why  does  He  love  the 
others?  Am  I  not  more  handsome,  not  better,  not 
stronger  than  they?  Have  I  not  saved  His  life,  while 
they  stooped  and  ran  away  like  scared  dogs?  Why 
does  He  not  walk  with  Judas  but  with  those  who  do 
not  love  Him?  They  have  brought  Him  some  trifling 
gift,  but  I  would  have  given  Him  the  beautiful,  the 
bold  Judas.  Now,  however,  He  will  be  destroyed 
and  Judas  will  be  destroyed  with  Him." 

Thereupon,  Judas's  attitude  toward  the  others 
became  remarkably  changed.  He  was  no  longer 
the  braggart,  the  liar,  the  slanderer,  the  thief,  but 
he  listened  and  was  silent,  and  he  brooded  in  a 
silence  which  seemed  to  his  brothers  worse  than  his 
lies.  "It  was  such  a  hopeless,  hollow,  and  lonely 
silence."  And  when  he  noticed  that  the  others 
were  troubled  by  his  ways,  he  went  off  alone  and 
thought  and  thought.  He  thought  of  but  one 
thing — that  he,  not  Peter  and  not  John,  should 
sit  at  the  right  hand  of  Jesus.  Gradually  it  be- 
comes clear  that  he  plans  to  betray  Jesus  in  order 
to  prove  his  love  toward  Him,  as  well  as  the  faith- 
lessness of  the  others,  whom  he  styles  "cowardly 
dogs. "  It  was  at  just  this  time  that  Judas  made 
his  first  secret  visit  to  Annas,  the  High  Priest. 
The  scene  with  Annas  is  highly  dramatic.  Each 
vies  with  the  other  in  cunningly  commingling  false- 
hood and  truth,  in  pretending  interest  and  in- 
difference. After  Judas  had  apparently  succeeded 
in  convincing  Annas  of  the  threatening  danger 
attending  upon  Jesus  and  "His  Kingdom,"  the 


90        Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot" 

latter  scornfully  offers  him  thirty  pieces  of  silver 
as  a  reward  for  betraying  Him. 

And  he  was  filled  with  joy  as  he  saw  how  Judas 
began  to  tremble,  and,  in  his  deep  excitement,  to  run 
back  and  forth,  as  though  he  had  a  dozen  legs. 

"  For  Jesus?  Thirty  pieces  of  silver  for  Jesus?"  he 
cried,  in  a  voice  in  which  astonishment  and  terror  were 
plainly  evident,  and  this  also  filled  Annas  with  joy. 
"  For  Jesus  of  Nazareth?  You  want  to  buy  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver?  And  you  believe 
that  one  would  sell  to  you  Jesus  for  thirty  bits  of 
silver?" 

Judas  turned  quickly  toward  the  wall  and  laughed 
in  its  flat  colourless  face,  while  he  stretched  his  long 
arms  in  the  air. 

Then  they  began  to  bargain  like  two  old  rag  ped- 
dlers, crying  and  cursing  as  though  mad.  Judas  in  a 
frenzy  of  emotion,  began  to  enumerate  the  virtues  of 
Him  whom  he  was  offering  for  sale.  "  And  that  He  is 
good,  and  heals  the  sick,  is  n't  that  worth  anything? 
What?  Come  now,  make  an  honest  bid." 

"And  that  He  is  young  and  beautiful  as  the  nar- 
cissus of  Sharon — does  that  count  for  nothing?  What  ? 
Perhaps  thou  wilt  say  that  he  is  old  and  worthless? 
What?" 

"  Thirty  pieces  of  silver!  That  does  n't  even  make 
an  obolus  for  a  drop  of  blood!  That  isn't  half  an 
obolus  for  a  tear !  Nor  a  quarter  for  a  groan !  And 
nothing  for  this,  that  His  heart  shall  stand  still  and 
His  eyes  shall  close?  All  that  for  nothing?" 

And  his  rage  knew  no  bounds  as  he  went  back 
and  forth  wildly  gesticulating. 


Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot"        91 

Judas  took  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver  with 
trembling  hands  and  went  out  of  the  city  in  order 
to  hide  his  money  underneath  a  stone.  Then  he 
turned  back  to  the  house  where  Jesus  and  His 
disciples  were  staying,  like  a  wounded  animal  that 
returns  to  its  lair  to  die.  There  he  found  the 
Master  with  His  wan  cheek  against  the  wall  quiet- 
ly sleeping.  Noiselessly  he  stole  forward  with  the 
tender  care  of  a  mother,  who  would  not  waken  her 
sick  child,  and  he  gently  touched  Jesus'  soft  hair, 
drawing  his  hand  quickly  back.  Once  more  he 
touched  it  and  then  stole  away  without  a  sound. 
"Master, "  he  said,  "Master. " 

Judas  went  behind  the  house  and  wept  bitterly. 
His  face  was  distorted,  he  writhed  with  pain, 
scratched  his  breast  with  his  nails,  and  bit  himself 
in  the  arms ;  then  he  fell  into  a  fit  of  brooding,  sit- 
ting thus  for  a  long  time,  "heavy  and  determined, 
strange  and  gloomy,  like  fate,  its  very  self. " 

From  this  time  on  until  the  triumphal  pro- 
cession into  Jerusalem,  Judas  was  consistently 
devoted  to  the  welfare  of  Jesus,  anticipating  His 
every  unspoken  wish.  He  surrounded  Him  with 
all  possible  comforts.  He  provided  pleasant  con- 
versation for  Him.  He  brought  little  children  to 
Him  and  arose  one  morning  with  the  rising  sun 
that  he  might  gather  flowers  in  the  hills.  He 
found  one  beautiful  lily,  which  he  gave  to  Mary 
Magdalene,  bidding  her  give  it  to  Jesus  without 
telling,  however,  where  it  had  come  from.  He 
also  warned  Him  and  the  others  of  the  dangers 


92        Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot" 

attendant  upon  the  journey  to  Jerusalem,  and  he 
stole  two  swords  with  which  they  might  arm 
themselves.  He  would  have  provided  more  if  the 
others  had  not  been  such  cowards  and  traitors 
that  they  would  not  use  them  to  protect  their 
Master;  but  they  only  laughed  at  Judas  and  his 
strange  ways.  Peter,  alone,  took  a  sword  and 
praised  Judas  for  his  forethought. 

But  the  others  were  right,  for  the  people  of 
Jerusalem  welcomed  Jesus  as  they  themselves 
had  not  even  dreamed.  Peter's  fear  vanished  and 
his  voice  and  laugh  sounded  above  all  others  on 
the  night  of  the  eventful  day  of  entry.  In  his 
exuberant  spirits  he  went  about  kissing  every  one 
of  the  disciples,  even  the  unloved  Judas,  who 
beheld  the  scene  apart,  as  it  were,  greatly  amazed 
at  the  remarkable  demonstration  of  affection 
toward  the  Master.  Doubt  and  uncertainty  fill 
his  mind  and  he  asks  Thomas,  with  a  piercing 
glance: — "Thomas,  what  if  He  were  right?  If 
He  had  stones  under  His  feet,  and  I — only  sand? 
What  then?" 

Here  Judas  seems  to  become  conscious  for  the 
time  of  the  fundamental  antagonism  between 
Jesus  and  himself.  It  seems  also  as  though  the 
good  were  about  to  triumph  over  the  evil,  since 
the  evil  had  lost  its  own  self-assurance.  But  the 
interval  of  indecision  lasts  only  a  moment,  and 
Judas  answers  his  own  dark  question. 

"What  would  Judas  Iscariot  do  then?  Then 
I  would  have  to  kill  Him  myself  in  order  to  do 


Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot"        93 

what  is  right.  Who  is  deceiving  Judas?  You, 
or  Judas  himself  ?  Who  is  deceiving  Judas  ?  Who  ? 
Who  is  right?" 

The  time  intervening  before  the  night  of  Geth- 
semane  quickly  passed,  the  hour  of  victory  rapidly 
giving  way  to  that  of  suspicion  and  dark  rumour. 
On  that  fateful  night  Judas  kissed  the  cheek  of  the 
Master  with  the  kiss  of  tender  love — it  was  the 
kiss  which  sealed  their  bond  of  union  for  all  time. 
From  now  on  they  stand  out  alone,  separated 
from  the  faint-hearted,  fleeing  others,  from  the 
ribald,  brutal  soldiery,  from  the  sleek,  scheming 
priests,  and  the  stupid,  blood-thirsty  mob.  Judas's 
hour  of  triumph  had  arrived,  even  though  it 
meant  destruction  to  the  object  of  his  love,  as  well 
as  to  himself;  for,  as  has  already  been  noted,  it 
was  the  test  of  his  affection,  that  he  should  accom- 
pany Jesus  into  the  realm  of  death. 

From  the  moment  of  betrayal  on,  Judas  hovers 
as  near  the  Master  as  the  soldiers  would  allow. 
As  before,  he  is  all  solicitude,  tenderness,  and 
sympathy.  While  Jesus  is  being  scourged  and 
maltreated,  one  hears  Judas  murmuring  in  an- 
guish: "Oh,  how  it  hurts,  how  it  hurts,  my 
son,  my  little  son,  my  dear,  little  son!  How  it 
hurts!" 

He  follows  the  Master  to  Caiaphas,  to  Pilate, 
and  is  near  Him  on  the  toilsome  journey  to  Gol- 
gotha. At  one  time  he  breaks  through  the  guard 
and  whispers  hastily  into  Jesus'  ear:  "I  am  with 
Thee!  I  am  with  Thee!  Thither!  Thou  under- 


94        Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot" 

standest!  Thither!"  The  soldiers  drive  him 
back  and  beat  him  in  the  face  with  their  scourges, 
but  he  only  dodges  and  shows  them  his  ugly 
teeth. 

Finally,  Jesus  dies — it  seemed  to  Judas  to  last 
an  eternity,  for  he  fears  that  the  crowd  will  surely 
recognise  whom  they  are  crucifying — and  Judas 's 
dreams  are  fulfilled,  his  victory  is  accomplished. 
The  world  and  the  people  of  the  world  have  the 
cross  and  the  dead  Jesus,  but  he,  and  he  alone, 
has  the  victory;  he  is  the  conqueror,  the  king, 
unspeakably  and  wonderfully  lonely  in  this  petty 
world  of  time  and  change.  And  his  heart  cries, 
Hosanna,  Hosanna! 

Before  completing  his  triumph  and  joining  his 
Master,  he  must,  however,  tell  the  Sanhedrin 
whom  they  have  so  foolishly  crucified,  and  the 
others,  what  cowardly  traitors  they  have  been 
and  are  in  that  they  do  not  accompany  him  to  the 
teacher. 

Judas  had  long  before  determined  upon  the 
place  where  he  would  end  his  life.  It  was  upon  a 
high  mountain  overhanging  Jerusalem  and  looking 
out  upon  a  desert  waste.  But  the  way  was  long 
and  weary,  so  that  the  lonely  wanderer  was  often 
forced  to  rest.  Suddenly  he  raised  his  head  and 
muttered  angrily : 

"No,  they  are  not  good  enough  for  Judas.  Do  you 
hear,  Jesus?  Wilt  Thou  believe  me  now?  I  am  on 
my  way  to  Thee.  Meet  me  kindly,  for  I  am  tired; 


Andreyev's  "Judas  Iscariot"        95 

I  am  very,  very  tired.     Then  we  shall  come  back  to 
the  earth  arm  in  arm,  like  two  brothers." 

Again  his  heavy  head  moved  back  and  forth 
and  he  continued: 

"Perhaps  even  there  Thou  wilt  be  angry  with  Judas 
Iscariot.  And  perhaps  Thou  wilt  not  believe  me. 
It  may  be  that  Thou  wilt  send  me  to  hell.  And  in  the 
flames  of  Thy  hell  I  shall  forge  the  iron  to  destroy 
Thy  heaven.  Then  Thou  wilt  believe  me,  wilt  Thou 
not?  and  Thou  wilt  then  come  back  to  earth  with  me." 

All  night  long  Judas  swayed  over  Jerusalem  like 
some  hideous  fruit,  and  the  wind  turned  his  face  now 
toward  the  desert,  now  toward  the  city.  But  which- 
ever way  his  distorted  face  turned,  its  blood-shot  eyes 
stared  unmoved  toward  the  sky  above. 

Such  is  Andreyev's  conception  of  the  life  and 
death  of  the  enigmatic  Judas  Iscariot.  True  to  his 
Russian  heritage,  as  well  as  to  the  conditions  of 
modern  thought,  the  author  deepens  and  expands 
the  conflict  of  the  two  characters,  so  that  it  be- 
comes a  conflict  of  elemental  life  forces.  He  has, 
furthermore,  paid  a  tribute,  worthy  of  a  creative 
genius,  to  the  potent  force  of  the  personality  of 
Christ.  The  very  fact  that  we  are  not  privileged 
to  hear  a  single  word  that  issues  directly  from  the 
mouth  of  Christ,  indicates  with  what  reverence 
Andreyev  has  approached  this  character.  One 
can  but  wonder  at  the  rare  charm  with  which  the 
portrayal  of  Christ  has  been  executed,  particularly 


96       Andreyev's  " Judas  Iscariot" 

in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  ill-favoured  and  un- 
loved Judas  is  the  chief  medium  of  the  portrayal. 
To  Judas  He  is  the  Man  of  Silence,  but  also  the 
Man  of  Sorrows  and  of  Love. 


KENNEDY'S  "THE    SERVANT    IN    THE 
HOUSE"1 

WE  now  turn  to  the  second  main  group  of 
works,  those  in  which  some  prominent  char- 
acter has  traits  that  immediately  suggest  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  and  seem  in  one  case,  at  least,  to  be  the 
veritable  reincarnation  of  His  spirit.  We  shall 
consider  in  the  following  order :  Kennedy's  Servant 
in  the  House,  Fogazzaro's  Saint,  Pontoppidan's 
Promised  Land,  and  Hauptmann's  Fool  in  Christ. 

In  none  of  the  other  works  discussed  is  the  note 
"Back  to  Christ"  more  decisively  sounded  than 
in  Kennedy's  drama.  Thrice  reference  is  made  to 
the  song,  "The  Church's  One  Foundation,"  and 
each  time  the  sentiment  of  this  song  is  strikingly 
inappropriate  and  seems  to  serve  as  an  ironical 
commentary  upon  the  existing  conditions.  The 
church  with  which  we  have  here  to  do  is  grounded 
upon  something  else  than  the  body  and  spirit  of 
Christ.  Similarly,  the  Vicar  of  the  Church,  the 
interpreter  and  bearer  of  the  spirit  of  Christ,  is 
strangely  startled  at  the  simple  and  sincere  words 
of  his  Servant,  Manson  (Man's-Son),  whom  he  has 

1  Charles  Rann  Kennedy,  The  Servant  in  the  House,  Harper 
Brothers,  New  York. 

7  97 


98      Kennedy's  "Servant  in  the  House" 

asked  as  to  his  religion.  "My  religion  is  very 
simple.  I  love  God  and  all  my  brothers."  The 
Vicar  adds  slowly  and  thoughtfully:  "That  is  not 
always  so  easy,  Manson,  but  it  is  my  creed,  too." 

Not  alone  the  Vicar,  but  also  the  other  charac- 
ters, the  Vicar's  wife,  "Auntie,"  their  foster 
daughter,  Mary,  the  outcast  brother,  Robert, 
and  Rogers,  the  page-boy,  become  meditative, 
searching  their  own  hearts  through  the  influence 
of  the  newly-engaged  Indian  butler,  Manson. 
They  become  aware,  to  a  greater  or  less  degree, 
that  they  have  not  been  living  honestly,  and  also 
that  practical,  brotherly  love  is  the  first  dictate 
of  their  hearts  and  of  life.  They  learn  to  "possess 
their  souls." 

Robert,  who  has  come  to  demand  Mary,  his 
daughter,  from  her  foster-parents,  recognises  and 
expresses  the  cause  of  the  inner  transformation 
more  clearly  and  also  more  roughly  than  the  others. 
When  asked  what  had  changed  him,  he  answers: 
"A  bloke  I  met,  Miss,  as  knowed  me  better  than 
I  know  myself.  'E  changed  me — 'e  taught  me 
my  own  mind;  'e  brought  me  back  to  my  own 
jobs — drains."  It  is  not  that  Manson  had 
preached  a  sermon  on  the  evil  of  hate  to  the  out- 
cast, heart-sick,  and  unloved  labourer,  but, 
rather,  that  he  looked  him  in  the  eye  and  called 
him  "comrade."  Likewise,  Manson  had  not 
hinted  at  the  falsity  of  the  Vicar's  life,  as  being  a 
main  cause  for  the  disintegration  of  his  church; 
he  had  simply  and  frankly  answered  the  Vicar's 


Kennedy's  "Servant  in  the  House"      99 

question  concerning  his  religion.  While  the  Vicar 
was  later  in  the  empty  church,  ready  to  perform 
the  Communion  Service,  the  thought  took  pos- 
session of  him,  "I  am  a  liar  in  the  face  of  God"; 
and  gradually  the  conviction  arose  in  his  mind, 
"I  have  babbled  in  the  pulpit  long  enough  about 
fatherhood  and  brotherhood."  He  determined 
to  give  Robert  a  brother's  rights  and  to  give  Mary 
back  to  the  father,  of  whom  she  had  never  heard 
nor  thought.  It  is  Manson,  the  Servant,  who 
becomes  the  Master  of  the  House  in  the  course  of 
the  short  morning.  He  sets  straight  the  course 
of  their  lives  by  clarifying  their  vision  as  to  life's 
purpose.  It  is  as  though  he  had  touched  the 
unseeing  eyes  and  taught  them  to  see. 

This  drama  contains,  furthermore,  an  indict- 
ment of  the  Church  and  clergy,  more  or  less  severe, 
as  the  reader  is  inclined  to  interpret 'the  state  of 
the  Vicar's  church  symbolically  and  to  consider 
the  Vicar  and  his  brother-in-law,  the  Bishop,  as 
representatives  of  the  clergy. 

For  various  reasons — the  most  important  of 
which  seems  to  be  the  stench  that  is  strikingly 
offensive  about  the  pulpit  and  in  the  pastor's 
study — the  Vicar's  church  is  practically  deserted. 
In  planning  for  the  restoration,  the  Vicar's  wife 
has  induced  her  brother,  the  Lord  Bishop  Make- 
shyfte,  to  meet  with  the  far-famed  Bishop  of 
Benares,  who,  after  an  absence  of  a  number  of 
years,  had  made  himself  known  as  the  Vicar's 
brother,  Joshua.  The  latter  had  volunteered  his 


ioo    Kennedy's  "Servant  in  the  House" 

services  toward  renovating  the  church,  on  the 
condition  that  some  one  should  assist  him.  The 
Lord  Bishop  is  glad  to  be  the  "some  one,"  for 
the  characteristic  purpose  of  associating  with 
so  famous  and  powerful  a  man  as  the  Indian 
Bishop. 

As  it  happens,  Robert,  the  drain-man  brother, 
and  Bishop  Makeshyfte  arrive  at  about  the  same 
time.  The  former  had  come  to  see  and,  probably, 
to  demand  his  daughter,  Mary.  The  Bishop,  who 
was  somewhat  deaf  and  very  near-sighted,  mistook 
Robert  for  the  Vicar  and  Manson,  the  butler,  for 
the  Bishop  of  Benares — which,  as  later  developed, 
he  indeed  was.  No  one  else  was  present. 

In  the  ensuing  discussion,  it  became  evident 
that  the  Bishop  himself  wished  to  contribute 
nothing  excepting  his  time  and  good-will  toward 
the  restoration  of  the  church ;  the  Bishop  of  Benares 
was  to  contribute  only  his  name — famous  for  his 
wonderful  work  in  India — and  the  people  were  to 
contribute  the  money,  which  was  to  be  divided 
"hereafter,"  as  seemed  fit.  Manson,  who  had  at 
first  proposed  that  each  one  give  everything  he 
possessed,  saw  the  purpose  of  the  Bishop  and 
summed  it  up  abruptly  in  these  words:  "God  's  not 
watching ;  let  us  give  as  little  and  grab  as  much  as 
we  can."  But  the  Bishop  turned  the  conversa- 
tion, on  account  of  the  supposed  presence  of  the 
Vicar.  He  asked  %  concerning  the  church  which 
the  Bishop  of  Benares  had  built  in  India.  The 
answer  follows  in  toto,  because  Manson  portrays 


Kennedy's  "Servant  in  the  House"    101 

his  ideal  church  and  likewise  characterises  him- 
self in  his  replies : 

Bishop:  They  say  it 's  an  enormous  concern! 
Manson:  So  it  is. 

Bishop:  Well,  what  would  such  an  establishment 
as  that  represent?     In  round  numbers,  now? 
Manson  (calmly) :     Numberless  millions. 
Bishop:  Numberless  mil  .  .  .   !    [He  drops  his  fork.] 
My  dear  sir,  absurd!  .  .  .  Why,  the  place  must  be 
a  palace — fit  for  a  king! 
Manson:     It  is! 

Bishop:  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  one  man  alone 
on  his  own  naked  credit,  could  obtain  numberless 
millions  for  such  an  object  as  that?  How  could  you 
possibly  get  them  together? 

Manson:  They  came  freely  from  every  quarter  of 
the  world. 

Bishop:  On  the  security  of  your  own  name  alone? 
Manson:   No  other,  I  assure  you. 
Bishop:  For  heaven's  sake  tell  me  all  about  it! 
What  sort  of  a  place  is  it? 

Manson  (seriously):  Are  you  quite  sure  you  can 
hear? 

Bishop:  Perhaps  your  voice  is  not  quite  so  clear  as 
it  was.  However  .  .  . 

[He  wipes  the  inside  of  the  ear- trumpet  and 
fixes  it  afresh.] 
Now!     Tell  me  about  your  church. 

(During  the  following  speech  the  Bishop  is 
occupied  with  his  own  thoughts;  after  the  first 
few  words  he  makes  no  attempt  at  listening; 
indeed,  the  trumpet  goes  down  to  the  table  again 
in  no  time.  On  the  other  hand,  Robert,  at  first 


102    Kennedy's  "Servant  in  the  House" 

apathetic,  gradually  awakens  to  the  keenest 
interest  in  what  Manson  says.) 

Manson  (very  simply) :  I  am  afraid  you  may  not 
consider  it  an  altogether  substantial  concern.  It 
has  to  be  seen  in  a  certain  way,  under  certain  con- 
ditions. Some  people  never  see  it  at  all.  You  must 
understand  this  is  no  dead  pile  of  stones  and  unmean- 
ing timber.  //  is  a  living  thing. 

Bishop  (in  a  hoarse  whisper,  self -engrossed) :  Num- 
berless millions ! 

Manson:  When  you  enter  it  you  hear  a  sound — 
a  sound  as  of  some  mighty  poem  chanted.  Listen 
long  enough  and  you  will  hear  that  it  is  made  up  of 
the  beating  of  human  hearts,  of  the  nameless  music  of 
men's  souls — that  is,  if  you  have  ears.  If  you  have  eyes, 
you  will  presently  see  the  church  itself — a  looming 
mystery  of  many  shapes  and  shadows,  leaping  sheer 
from  floor  to  dome.  The  work  of  no  ordinary  builder ! 

Bishop  (trumpet  down):  On  the  security  of  one 
man's  name! 

Manson:  The  pillars  of  it  go  up  like  the  brawny 
trunks  of  heroes;  the  sweet,  human  flesh  of  men 
and  women  is  moulded  about  its  bulwarks,  strong, 
impregnable;  the  faces  of  little  children  laugh  out 
from  every  cornerstone;  the  terrible  spans  and  arches 
of  it  are  the  joined  hands  of  comrades;  and  up  in  the 
heights  and  spaces  there  are  inscribed  the  numberless 
musings  of  all  the  dreamers  in  the  world.  It  is  yet 
building — building  and  built  upon.  Sometimes  the 
work  goes  forward  in  deep  darkness;  sometimes  in 
blinding  light ;  now,  beneath  the  burden  of  unutterable 
anguish;  now,  to  the  tune  of  a  great  laughter  and 
heroic  shoutings  like  the  cry  of  thunder.  [Softer.] 
Sometimes,  in  the  silence  of  the  night-time,  one  may 


Kennedy's  "Servant  in  the  House"    103 

hear  the  tiny  hammerings  of  the  comrades  at  work  up 

in  the  dome — the  comrades  that  have  climbed  ahead. 

(There  is  a  short  silence,  broken  only  by  the 

champing  jaws  of  the  Bishop,  who  has  resumed 

his  sausages.     Robert  speaks  first.) 

Robert  (slowly) :  I  think  I  begin  to  understand  you, 
comride;  especially  that  bit  abaht  .  .  .  [his  eyes 
stray  upwards]  the  'ammerin's  an'  the — harches — • 
an'  .  .  .  Humph!!  'monlyan'og!  .  .  . 

S'pose  there  's  no  drain  'ands  wanted  in  that  there 
church  o'  yours? 

Manson:  Drains  are  a  very  important  question 
there  at  present.  .  .  . 

Robert  (rising):  I  don't  know!  Things  'ave  got  in 
a  bit  of  a  muck  with  me!  ...  I  '11  go  and  'ave  a 
look  at  our  Bill's  [the  Vicar's]  drains,  damn  'is  eyes. 

The  Bishop,  having  learned  that  he  has  been 
talking  with  the  butler,  bribes  him  to  silence  and 
withdraws  to  the  conference  with  the  Vicar  and  his 
wife.  The  Bishop's  plan  has,  in  the  main,  already 
been  disclosed.  It  is  needless  to  note  that  the 
Vicar,  who  is  gradually  freeing  himself  from  the 
"bondage  of  lies,"  will  have  none  of  the  church 
which  is  to  be  built  upon  the  deceitful  schemes  of 
the  self-seeking  Bishop.  Thus,  he  readily  acqui- 
esces when  Manson,  to  whom  the  Vicar  and  his 
wife  have  given  charge  of  the  house  for  "one  little 
hour,"  peremptorily  orders  the  Bishop  to  leave. 
The  latter  pronounces  curses  upon  the  house, 
assures  the  Vicar  that  he  is  no  scholar,  expresses 
his  shame  that  he  has  eaten  at  the  table  with  a 
common  working-man,  and  denounces,  finally 


io4   Kennedy's  "  Servant  in  the  House  " 

Manson  as  a  cheat  and  impostor,  worthy  of  being 
"nailed  up  for  an  example."  Manson  answers: 
"I  have  encountered  similar  hostility  before,  my 
Lord — from  gentlemen  very  like  your  lordship. 
Allow  me"  .  .  .  (He  opens  the  door.) 

Bishop:  "  Don't  trouble,  Sir.  I  can  get  my 
hat  and  my  stick  and  my  portmanteau  for  myself. 
I  can  do  very  well  without  your  assistance  .  .  . 
thank  God."1 

The  Vicar  and  his  wife  have  realised  that  "God 
and  Mammon  are  about  them  fighting  for  their 
souls, "  and  they  are  now  ready  to  do  the  honest 
thing,  whatever  it  may  cost.  Not  the  reconstruc- 
tion of  the  church  shall  come  first,  but  reconstruc- 
tion of  their  own  lives;  so  they  summon  Mary, 
purposing  to  tell  her  that  her  father,  whom  she 
had  wished  for  with  all  her  heart  in  the  past  hours 
and  pictured  as  "brave  and  beautiful  and  good," 
was  the  drain-man  now  working  in  the  pastor's 
study,  and  that  the  man  had  become  what  he 
was,  because  of  the  Vicar's  ambitions. 

Before  the  disclosure,  however,  Robert,  the 
drain-man,  appeared,  not  to  make  his  identity 
known  to  his  daughter,  but  to  tell  of  what  he  had 
found  and  what  he  proposed  doing. 

"  I  'm  the  drain-man,  see  ?    Thought  you  might1  be 

1  The  veiled  reference  to  Jesus  in  these  two  speeches  serves 
more  than  any  other  direct  expression  to  disclose,  how  closely 
related,  if  not  identical,  Manson  and  Christ  were  in  the  mind  of 
the  author.  Cf.  also  the  statement  that  millions  were  contributed 
to  the  "Church"  on  the  security  of  Manson's  name  alone. 


Kennedy's  "Servant  in  the  House"    105 

mistakin*  me  for  summat  else,  if  you  was  n't  told. 
Now  you  know  ....  That 's  what  I  come  'ere 
to  talk  abaht — my  job.  PYaps  you  '11  think  as  it 
ain't  a  tasty  subjic,  before  a  lot  o'  nice,  clean,  re- 
spectable people  as  never  'ad  any  thin'  worse  on  their 
fingers  than  a  bit  of  lawn-dirt,  playin'  crokey;  but 
some  one  'as  to  see  to  the  drains,  some  one  'as  to  clear 
up  the  muck  of  the  world!  I  'm  the  one.  An'  I  'm 
'ere  to  tell  you  about  it." 

It  seemed  that  he  had  quickly  discovered  the 
stoppage  of  the  drain  underneath  the  pastor's 
study,  but  indescribable  as  that  was,  he  had 
followed  the  pipe  through,  in  spite  of  filth,  stench, 
and  vicious  rats,  until  he  had  come  to  a  subterra- 
nean vault — he  knew  that  it  was  beneath  the  church 
because  he  had  heard  the  tune  from  the  organ 
above  his  head,  "The  Church's  One  Founda- 
tion." The  utter  vileness  of  the  scene  beggared 
description— 

"I  never  thought  there  could  be  such  a  lot  of  muck 
and  dead  things  all  in  one  place  before.  It  was  a 
fair  treat,  it  was ;  I  tek  my  oath !  Why — why,  it  may 
cost  a  man  'is  LIFE  to  deal  with  that  little  job." 

The  Vicar  cries  that  it  would  be  impossible,  no 
one  would  ever  dare  to  undertake  such  a  job. 
Robert  answers:  "  Dare!  Why,  wot  d'  you  think 
I  come  'ere for  ? — I'M  THE  DRAIN  MAN,  THAT  's 
WOT  i  AM!"  The  Vicar  feverishly  protests  that 
he  shall  not  go,  that  the  sacrifice  would  be  too 
great.  Robert  answers,  unshaken,  "  What 's  it 


io6    Kennedy's  "  Servant  in  the  House  " 

matter  if  the  comrides  up  above '  av'  light  and 
joy  an'  a  breath  of  'olesome  air  to  sing  by  ?  " 

When  the  Vicar  sees  that  his  brother  is  not  to  be 
persuaded,  he  cries,  somewhat  rhetorically, 

"Then,  by  God  and  all  the  powers  of  grace,  you  shall 
not  go  alone!  Off  with  these  lies  and  make-believes! 
Off  with  these  prisoners'  shackles!  They  cramp,  they 
stifle  me!  Freedom!  Freedom!  This  is  no  priest's 
work — it  calls  for  a  man!" 

These  words  are  the  signal  for  the  scene  of 
recognition  and  reconciliation.  Manson  then 
appears  and,  announcing  himself  as  the  looked-for 
Bishop  of  Benares,  gives  his  benediction,  as  it  were, 
to  the  little  group,  now  bound  together  by  bonds 
of  self-renunciation.  The  Vicar  does  not  go  to 
build  the  beautiful,  big  church  of  his  and  his  wife's 
dreams  "with  the  great  spires  and  flashing  crosses 
and  glorious  windows  " ;  but  he  goes  as  the  comrade 
of  his  drain-man  brother  into  the  horror  of  the 
walled-up  vault,  in  order  there  to  have  a  real  share 
in  the  construction  of  the  indivisible  and,  to 
many,  invisible  Church,  such  as  the  Bishop  of 
Benares  has  been  building  in  India. 

Manson,  apart  from  certain  outward  peculiari- 
ties that  remind  the  reader  of  Christ,  has  also  that 
mysterious  power  that  belonged  so  markedly  to  the 
Son  of  Man,  of  saving  one  to  one's  real  and  best 
self,  by  means  of  simple,  personal  contact.  As 


Kennedy's  " Servant  in  the  House"    107 

has  already  been  quoted:  "redemption  consists 
in  living  with  Him."'Manson's  Church  is  further- 
more strikingly  similar  to  what  the  Church  of 
Christ  might  be. 

*Cf.  above  p.  71. 


FOGAZZARO'S  "THE  SAINT"1 

OF  the  various  writings  thus  far  considered,  not 
one  is  as  likely  to  be  criticised  on  account  of 
propagandist  tendencies  as  The  Saint,  of  the  emi- 
nent Italian  novelist,  Antonio  Fogazzaro.  On  the 
other  hand,  no  other  author  better  deserves  a 
place  among  the  foremost  of  recent  novelists,  and 
no  other  work  has  enjoyed  such  immediate  and 
widespread  popularity. 

One  is  tempted  to  ask  whether  the  observation 
made  by  William  James  with  regard  to  the  in- 
creasing activity  in  religious  matters  in  our  Ameri- 
can world,  might  not  be  reasonably  broadened  to 
read  "our  modern  world,"  and  whether  the 
sensational  success  of  The  Saint  is  not  the  best 
demonstration  in  recent  literature  of  the  truth  of 
this  observation.  For  Fogazzaro 's  book  fairly 
teems  with  religion  and  religious  experiences. 
The  mountains  and  hills,  the  falling  rains  and  the 
river  torrents,  the  very  stones  of  the  convent  bring 
a  religious  message.  The  religious  sentiments  of 
each  individual  character  find  an  appropriate 
exposition,  the  story  concluding  with  the  conver- 
sion from  Protestantism  to  Catholicism  of  one, 

1  Antonio  Fogazzaro,  The  Saint  (tr.  by  M.  A.  Pritchard), 
Putnam,  New  York,  1906. 

108 


Fogazzaro's  "The  Saint"         109 

and  from  indifferentism  to  religious  conviction  of 
another  principal  character.  In  fact,  the  romance, 
interwoven  with  the  development  of  the  hero's, 
Benedetto's,  sainthood,  may  be  said  to  be  con- 
summated when  Jeanne,  whom  he  has  renounced, 
together  with  all  that  is  of  the  world,  kisses  the 
Crucifix  before  him  on  his  death-bed.  If  Fogaz- 
zaro's novel  is  an  index  to  the  future,  we  may  look 
for  a  remarkable  revival  of  the  union  of  Art  and 
Religion;  we  may  look  to  see  Literature  serving, 
not  as  means  of  distraction  and  recreation,  but, 
rather,  increasingly  serving  the  high  end  to  which 
it  is  called:  to  interpret  and  illuminate  the  whole 
of  life,  even  those  ultimate  and  hidden  things 
which  are  behind  the  lives  of  men. 

The  key-note  of  The  Saint  is  struck  at  an  infor- 
mal meeting  of  a  number  of  progressive  Catholics, 
in  the  house  of  Giovanni  Selva,  who  had  practically 
acquired  the  intellectual  leadership  of  the  reform 
movement  in  Italy  by  virtue  of  his  modernistic 
writings.  The  aim  of  the  "Union" — which  finally 
did  not  materialise — was  to  create  a  current  of 
opinion  which  ultimately  would  induce  the  legiti- 
mate authorities  to  institute  the  desired  reforms 
"in  religious  instruction,  in  the  ceremonies,  in  the 
discipline  of  the  clergy,  even  in  the  highest  sphere 
of  ecclesiastical  government. " 

The  most  conflicting  views  were  brought  for- 
ward. In  opposition  to  the  aim  just  quoted,  one 
prelate  urged  the  importance  of  illumining  hearts 


no        Fogazzaro's  "The  Saint" 

rather  than  minds  by  "rendering  the  Catholic 
faith  in  the  word  of  Christ  efficacious,  for  the 
faithful  praise  Christ  with  their  lips,  but  the  heart 
of  the  people  is  far  from  Him." 

Another  priest  pointed  out  that  real  progress 
was  to  be  made  only  through  the  medium  of 
an  individual  personality,  concluding  with  the 
following  remarks : 

"  Science  and  religion  progress  only  through  the 
individual,  through  the  Messiah.  Have  you  a  saint 
among  you?  Do  you  know  where  to  look  for  one? 
Then  find  him  and  let  him  march  forward.  Fiery 
language,  broad  charity,  two  or  three  little  miracles, 
and  your  Messiah,  alone,  will  achieve  more  than  all 
of  you  together." 

This  point  of  view  provoked  the  ironical  remark 
that  if  such  a  "Saint"  should  come,  he  would  be 
sent  to  China  as  a  missionary,  or  imprisoned,  not 
daring  to  "serve  Christ  for  fear  of  Peter. " 

Little  did  these  gentlemen — the  charter  members, 
as  it  were,  of  the  Union,  which  was  not  to  be,— 
appreciate  that  a  man  at  that  very  time  sitting 
in  a  dark  corner  of  an  adjoining  garden,  waiting 
patiently  for  one  of  their  number,  the  monk,  Don 
Clemente,  was  destined  to  concentrate  within  his 
own  being  all  of  the  good  in  the  various  reforms 
to  which  the  "  reconstructionists  "  aspired,  that  he 
was  to  be  the  "individual"  who  might  do  more 
than  resolutions  and  Unions  toward  realising  a 
reformed  Catholicism. 


Fogazzaro's  "The  Saint"         in 

Benedetto,  as  he  chose  to  be  called,  was  now 
pale  and  emaciated  through  long  night  vigils  on 
the  hills  and  through  periods  of  unbroken  fasting, 
as  well  as  through  the  hard  labour  in  the  convent 
garden.  Once  he  had  been  the  pampered  child 
of  culture  and  wealth,  intellectual  and  sensuous. 
He  had  given  himself  over  to  the  illicit  love  of  a 
brilliantly  gifted  woman  of  the  world;  when, 
suddenly,  at  the  death  of  his  wife,  a  vision  came 
to  him  of  himself  dying  underneath  a  tree  on  the 
bare  ground  and  in  the  poor  habit  of  a  monk. 
This  vision,  in  conjunction  with  his  wife's  death, 
affected  his  naturally  mystical  nature  deeply, 
and  he  consequently  renounced  love,  position, 
and  wealth,  to  do  all  that  was  possible  in  order  to 
ascertain  God's  will  concerning  himself.  Thus 
he  had  lived  through  long  years,  devoting  himself 
of  free  accord  to  the  service  of  the  monastery,  but 
never  desiring  to  take  its  vows. 

Don  Clemente,  strongly  influenced  by  the  views 
of  his  modernist  friend,  Giovanni  Selva,  had 
taught  his  son,  Benedetto,  of  God's  truth,  as  this 
had  been  revealed  to  him.  That  he  called  this 
son  of  his  spirit  "Son"  was  more  a  fact  than  a 
name ;  for  his  affection  was  ever  growing,  particu- 
larly as  he  became  fully  aware  of  Benedetto's 
mystic  fervour,  his  great  and  unconscious  humility, 
his  progress  in  comprehending  the  faith  according 
to  Selva 's  ideas,  and  his  remarkable  lucidity  of 
thought. 

It  was  not  strange  that  Don  Clemente,  who  had 


ii2        Fogazzaro's  "  The  Saint " 

been  accompanied  to  the  monastery  after  the 
evening  gathering  by  Benedetto,  involuntarily 
thought  of  the  words  he  had  heard  at  Selva's 
house:  "A  Saint  is  needed,"  with  reference  to 
his  faithful  follower. 

With  heavy  heart  the  monk,  a  little  later  on  the 
same  eventful  evening,  took  his  departure  from  the 
Superior  Father.  The  latter  had  forbidden  Don 
Clemente  to  visit  his  old  friends,  the  Selvas,  again, 
because  Selva  had  come  into  disfavour  with  a 
certain  faction  at  Rome.  The  Abbot  had  also 
determined  that  Benedetto  should  no  longer  stay 
as  the  guest  of  the  monastery,  since  it  was  obvious 
that  he  had  no  intention  of  taking  the  vows.  It 
might  be  added,  that  Don  Clemente  had  already 
advised  Benedetto  to  go  to  a  neighbouring  town 
for  a  few  days,  so  that  he  might  avoid  meeting 
his  former  mistress,  who  had  finally  discovered  his 
retreat  and  would  naturally  seek  for  an  interview. 
Benedetto  had  no  fear  on  this  account  but  had 
acquiesced  in  the  proposal  of  his  counsellor. 

On  the  day  of  his  departure  Benedetto  met  face 
to  face  in  another  monastery,  Jeanne,  the  woman 
with  whom  he  had  transgressed  the  moral  law. 
They  had  met,  by  merest  chance,  in  the  room 
marked  "Silentium. "  But  words  were  not  neces- 
sary to  tell  her  that  the  Piero  Maironi  whom  she 
had  known  and  loved  was  no  more. 

His  fleshless  face,  his  brow  expressed  a  dignity,  a 
gravity,  a  sad  sweetness  which  she  had  never  known 


Fogazzaro's  "The  Saint"         113 

in  him.  And  in  the  eyes  shone  a  something  ineffable 
and  divine,  much  humility,  much  power,  the  power  of 
a  transcendant  love,  springing  not  from  his  heart 
but  from  a  mystic  fount  within  his  heart ;  a  love  reach- 
ing beyond  her  heart,  but  seeking  her  in  the  inner, 
mysterious  regions  of  the  soul,  regions  unknown  to  her. 

In  the  subdued  light  of  the  neighbouring  chapel 
he  bade  her  live  for  the  poor  and  afflicted,  as 
though  they  were  a  part  of  the  soul  she  loved,  and 
never  to  seek  him  again.  She  should  agree  to  this 
on  the  condition  that  he  would  call  her  to  his  side 
in  a  certain  hour  of  the  future.  He  was  thinking 
of  the  hour  of  his  death.  Then  he  was  gone. 

Soon  after  Benedetto's  departure  from  the 
monastery,  the  neighbourhood  was  filled  with 
reports  of  the  miracles  performed  by  the  "Saint 
of  Jenne. "  People  flocked  from  all  parts  of  the 
country  to  the  little  hill-village  of  Jenne;  even 
Rome  sent  its  representation  of  curious  women  and 
light-minded  students.  The  sick  and  maimed 

were  brought  from  leagues  about. And  the 

Saint?  It  was  Benedetto,  who  said:  "Who  are 
you  and  what  has  happened,  that  you  come  to 
me  as  if  I  were  what  I  am  not  ? ' '  He  protested  that 
they  should  not  call  him  "  the  Saint,"  he  urged 
them  not  to  bring  their  sick,  saying  that  he  had  no 
power  to  heal  the  body,  that  he  could  only  pray 
for  them.  He  besought  them  to  heal  their  souls; 
he  begged  that  they  should  ask  with  faith  for  the 
healing  of  the  soul  first,  and  then  of  the  body. 


H4        Fogazzaro's  "The  Saint" 

Benedetto  worked  in  the  fields  by  day  for  the 
widows  and  orphans  and  himself.  At  night  he 
talked  before  his  cabin.  He  would  not  preach  in 
the  church,  feeling  himself  to  be  unworthy  and 
being  but  a  layman.  But  he  preached  of  the 
Church,  bidding  his  hearers  prepare  themselves 
for  it. 

"Are  you  fit  to  enter  the  Church?  Do  you  know  that 
you  may  not  enter  the  Church,  not  only  if  you  bear 
ill-will  against  your  neighbour,  but  also  if  you  have 
injured  him  in  any  manner  whatsoever,  either  in  your 
dealings  with  him,  or  in  his  honour,  if  you  have  slan- 
dered him,  or  harbour  in  your  heart  wicked  desires 
against  his  body  or  his  soul?  Do  you  know  that  all 
the  Masses,  all  the  Benedictions,  all  the  Rosaries, 
and  all  the  Litanies,  count  for  less  than  nothing,  if 
you  do  not  first  purify  your  hearts,  according  to  the 
word  of  Jesus?  Are  you  unclean  with  hatred,  or  with 
any  impurity  whatsoever?  Then  go!  Jesus  will  not 
have  you  in  the  Church!" 

And  again,  he  talked  to  his  listeners  of  prayer 
and  the  manner  of  prayer: 

"You  believe  your  souls  will  be  saved  by  the  great 
number  of  your  prayers,  and  you  do  not  even  know 
how  to  pray.  You  do  not  reflect  that  the  Master 
(God)  cares  little  for  many  words.  He  desires  rather 
that  you  serve  Him  faithfully  in  silence,  your  mind 
fixed  always  on  His  will." 

Who  was  this  man,  indeed,  that  he  should  speak 


Fogazzaro's  "The  Saint"         115 

of  prayer,  Masses,  Rosaries,  and  Litanies  so  slight- 
ingly, that  he  should  tell  of  the  transforming  of 
the  body  of  the  Catholic  doctrine  that  it  might 
increase  in  beauty  and  strength? 

Through  the  mysterious  ministrations  of  the 
Holy  Office,  Benedetto  was  deprived  of  roof,  bread, 
and  the  layman's  habit.  He  went  forth  from 
Jenne  broken  in  body  but  unbroken  in  spirit, 
determined  to  "tell  of  Christ,  who  is  the  Truth," 
wherever  He  might  determine.  After  a  pro- 
tracted period  of  illness  and  convalescence,  and 
also  of  doubt  and  temptation,  at  the  house  of 
Giovanni  Selva,  Benedetto  went  to  Rome. 

The  outer  frame-work  of  the  second  part  of  the 
novel,  relating  to  Benedetto's  stay  in  Rome,  con- 
sists of  the  effort  on  the  part  of  the  Church  to 
banish  from  the  Holy  City  this  unruly  layman- 
critic.  The  only  opposition  encountered  was 
raised  through  the  futile  machinations  of  Jeanne, 
now  living  a  life  of  extreme  self-sacrifice  in  the 
service  of  her  egotistical  brother.  She,  however, 
had  never  sought  to  break  her  promise  to  Bene- 
detto, even  though  her  devotion  to  him  was 
consuming  her  life.  It  was  particularly  hard  for 
her  not  to  go  to  him,  when  she  learned  of  his 
continued  ill-health  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the 
other,  of  the  snares  being  set  for  him  by  the 
ecclesiastical  zealots. 

The  persecution  of  the  Church  was  insidious 
and  subtle:  insidious,  in  its  methods  of  sowing 
slanderous  reports  concerning  Benedetto's  career 


n6        Fogazzaro's  "The  Saint" 

and  present  associations;  subtle,  in  enlisting  the 
services  of  the  State  by  means  of  concessions  con- 
cerning appointments,  with  the  result  that  the 
State,  on  the  basis  of  certain  trumped-up  charges, 
ordered  Benedetto  to  leave  Rome  within  three  days. 

Jeanne  caused  him  to  be  warned  at  the  critical 
moment,  and  procured  for  him  temporary  refuge 
in  the  house  of  an  aged  senator,  the  one-time 
friend  of  her  father.  Here,  too,  although  sick 
unto  death,  he  was  not  immune  from  the  intrigues 
of  his  enemies,  who  forced  the  senator  to  deny 
him  the  shelter  of  his  home.  He  was  brought, 
finally,  to  his  former  rooms,  in  the  garden-house 
of  a  skilled  surgeon,  for  whom  he  had  previously 
worked  in  the  capacity  of  under-gardener.  With- 
in two  days  he  died.  At  his  bedside  there  gathered 
his  immediate  followers,  the  poor  and  needy, 
whom  he  had  previously  comforted  with  word 
and  deed;  also  the  Selvas,  Don  Clemente,  and  at 
last,  true  to  his  promise,  he  had  sent  for  Jeanne. 
Although  he  could  say  no  word  to  her,  he  perceived 
that  she  believed,  and  a  smile  broke  across  his 
face  as  he  closed  his  eyes  in  death. 

The  thought-content  of  the  second  part  of  the 
novel  may,  for  the  purpose  of  clearness,  be  divided 
into  two  parts:  the  first,  dealing  with  the  modern- 
istic criticism  of  the  Catholic  Church ;  the  second, 
pertaining  to  the  renewal  of  the  spirit  of  Christ  in 
Benedetto's  own  life  and  teaching. 

Although  the  former  tendency  does  predominate 
throughout  the  novel,  it  is  extraneous  to  our 


Fogazzaro's  "The  Saint"         117 

present  theme,  and  it  is,  therefore,  unnecessary  to 
consider  the  details  of  the  criticism  or  of  the  plans 
for  reconstruction.  It  may  suffice  to  call  atten- 
tion to  the  climax  of  the  action,  the  scene  between 
the  pope  and  Benedetto,  who  had  been  summoned 
to  the  Vatican  for  a  conference.  In  this  discus- 
sion may  be  found  the  epitome  of  the  modernist's 
criticisms  and  aspirations.1 

Benedetto's  fervour  and  devotion,  his  unques- 
tioned sincerity  and  purity  of  purpose,  as  well  as 
his  passionate  devotion  to  the  Church  and  to  the 
Master  of  the  Church,  affect  the  aged  and  dis- 
couraged pope  deeply.  He  gives  Benedetto  his 
blessing  and  promises,  too,  to  summon  him  again 
to  the  Vatican.  The  favour  of  the  pope  and  the 
manner  of  Benedetto's  influence  upon  him  only 
incited  the  latter's  enemies  the  more  to  bring  about 
his  banishment. 

The  first  and  only  meeting  of  the  "  Union  "- 
to-be  was  introduced  with  the  thought  that  the 
ideas  of  the  reform  of  the  Church  were  first  to  be 
purified  by  love,  that  the  spirit  of  Christ  should  be 
first  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  the  reformers. 
This  spirit  determines  not  alone  the  under-current 
of  criticisms  and  reforms  of  the  Church,  but  it  also 
animates  the  least  word  and  deed  of  Benedetto,  so 
that  one  is  often  constrained  to  draw  a  direct 

1  It  might  well  be  added  at  this  point  that  a  recent  writer  on 
Catholic  Modernism  speaks  favorably  of  The  Saint,  as  giving 
one  "a  good  conception  of  the  condition  of  Modernism  in  Italy, 
which  otherwise  is  not  easily  attained."  Johannes  Kubel, 
Geschichte  des  Katholischen  Modernismus,  p.  136. 


ii8        Fogazzaro's  "The  Saint" 

comparison  between  Christ  and  "the  Saint." 
Benedetto  gave  his  life  in  humble  sacrifice  to  the 
needy,  little  thinking  of  his  own  comfort  and  wel- 
fare; he,  too,  protested  against  traditions  and 
ceremonies  and  much  public  praying,  insisting, 
rather,  on  inner  purity  of  purpose  and  that  men 
should  listen  to  the  voice  of  the  One  within,  who  is 
more  than  priests  and  pontiffs  and  indices;  he, 
also,  spoke  in  parables  and  pictures,  that  often 
contain  a  reminiscence  of  the  Gospel  narrative; 
finally,  despised,  feared,  and  persecuted  by  Church 
and  State,  having  hardly  a  place  whereupon  to 
lay  his  head,  he  gave  up  his  life  because  of  his  love 
for  his  fellow-men. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  of  a  devoted 
adherent  of  "the  Saint,"  to  Jeanne,  will  indicate 
how  distinctly  the  similarity  to  Christ  was  felt; 
"When  Maironi  (Benedetto)  speaks,  you  feel  that 
the  living  Christ  is  in  his  heart,  the  risen  Christ. " 

In  one  respect,  nevertheless,  there  is  a  marked 
difference  between  the  teaching,  as  usually  deduced 
from  the  Gospels,  and  that  of  Benedetto.  It  is 
found  in  his  attitude  toward  religion  and  morality. 
They  are  more  than  interdependent;  in  fact, 
morality  all  but  includes  religion.1  For  he  who 
gives  the  hungry  to  eat  and  clothes  the  naked  is 
serving  God,  even  though  he  neither  knows  it  nor 
wishes  it.  The  love  of  one's  neighbour  will,  in 

JFogazzaro  has  defined  the  theme  of  The  Saint,  as  the 
necessity  of  a  vigorous  religious  activity  especially  in  the  moral 
sphere.  (A.  Ferrero). 


Fogazzaro's  "The  Saint"         119 

fact,  compensate  for  the  failure  to  love  God. 
The  intellectual  Giovanni  doubted  his  own  love 
for  God,  because  he  held  too  lightly  the  love  of  his 
neighbour.  At  one  time  Benedetto  said : 

Man  may  deny  the  existence  of  God  without  really 
being  an  Atheist  or  deserving  eternal  death,  if  that 
God,  whose  existence  he  denies,  be  placed  before  him 
in  a  shape  repugnant  to  his  intellect,  and  if  he  love 
Truth,  Virtue,  and  his  fellow-men,  and  by  his  life 
give  proof  of  his  love. 

On  another  occasion  he  turned  to  the  minister 
who  claimed  to  believe  in  God,  and  arraigned  him 
for  his  lack  of  sincerity  in  conducting  the  affairs  of 
State,  claiming  that  he  did  more  to  undermine 
belief  in  God  than  the  professed  Atheists.  "If 
men  go  into  Parliament,"  he  continued,  "who 
profess,  as  philosophers,  not  to  know  God,  but 
who  rise  up  in  the  name  of  Truth  against  the 
arbitrary  tyranny  of  Untruth,  they  are  serving 
God  better  than  you  and  will  be  more  pleasing 
to  God  than  you,  who  believe  in  Him  as  an  idol 
and  not  as  the  Spirit  of  Truth." 

Likewise,  before  the  pope,  Benedetto  did  not 
hesitate  to  emphasise  that  Christianity  means 
moral  living  rather  than  "the  clinging  of  the 
intellect  to  formulae  of  truth — or  the  fulfilment  of 
negative  religious  duties,  and  the  recognition  of 
obligations  towards  the  ecclesiastical  authority." 
He  wished  that  the  bishops  and  the  pope,  too, 
might  leave  their  princely  palaces  and  go  out 


120        Fogazzaro's  "The  Saint" 

among  the  masses  "to  encourage  them  to  the 
imitation  of  Christ." 

Finally,  Benedetto  turning  on  his  death-bed  to 
the  devoted  band  of  followers  that  consisted  of  a 
Jewish  student,  a  young  priest,  a  workman,  a 
painter,  a  naval  officer,  and  several  friends,  ad- 
monished them  to  pray  without  ceasing  and  to 
love  one  another:  "Love  is  enough."  They  shall 
be  tolerant  and  bear  offence  patiently.  They  shall 
labour  to  purify  the  faith  and  to  cause  it,  above  all, 
to  penetrate  into  life — not  in  public  places  but 
among  themselves,  their  friends,  and  in  the  family 
life.  For  there  are  those,  he  concluded, 

who  really  believe  in  dogmas,  and  would  gladly  believe 
in  more  dogmas,  who  really  believe  in  the  miracles, 
and  are  glad  to  believe  in  more  miracles,  but  who  do 
not  really  believe  in  the  Beatitudes,  who  say  to  Christ, 
"Lord,  Lord!"  but  who  think  it  would  be  too  hard  to 
do  all  His  will, — who  do  not  know  that  religion  is, 
above  all  things,  action  and  life. 

Before  laying  his  hand  on  their  heads — which  he 
did  unwillingly,  protesting  that  he  was  "only  the 
poor  blind  man,  whose  eyes  Christ  had  opened 
with  clay  " —  he  said : 

My  sons,  I  do  not  promise  that  you  will  renew  the 
world.  You  will  labour  in  the  night-time,  without 
visible  gain,  like  Peter  and  his  companions  on  the  Sea 
of  Galilee.  But,  at  last,  Christ  will  come,  and  then 
your  gain  will  be  great. 


Fogazzaro's  "  The  Saint "        121 

The  Italian  critic,  Augusto  Ferrero,  asserts,  that 
Fogazzaro's  Saint  actually  made  the  problem  of 
Modernism  a  problem  of  the  man  of  the  street. 
As  conceived  by  the  author,  this  problem  arises 
because  of  the  discrepancy  between  the  teachings 
of  the  Church  and  of  Christ.  Its  solution,  as 
embodied  in  the  figure  of  the  Saint,  consists  in 
rediscovering  the  spirit  of  Christ,  which  is  simply 
the  spirit  of  love.  The  Catholic  faith  is  to  be 
regenerated  through  the  practice  of  the  word  of 
Christ. 


PONTOPPIDAN'S  "THE  PROMISED  LAND"* 

PONTOPPIDAN  has  presented  in  The  Promised 
Land  an  objective  portrayal  of  a  serious- 
minded  people  in  its  efforts  to  find  the  life-giving 
truth,  as  this  is  revealed  in  religion.  The  author 
is  not  influenced  by  any  tendency.  He  shows  no 
favouritism  toward  his  characters,  nor  the  move- 
ments which  they  so  passionately  advocate.  Like 
the  epical  poet,  he  stands  at  one  side,  impartially 
observing  and  chronicling  the  passing  stream  of 
events.  He  has  succeeded  in  looking  at  his  own 
time  with  the  eyes  of  the  historian  and,  further- 
more, in  concentrating  in  the  personalities  and 
activities  of  a  limited  number  of  characters  those 
important  interests  that  are  affecting  his  own 
country-men,  as  well  as  large  bodies  of  people  in 
the  Europe  of  to-day. 

As  was  pointed  out  in  our  introduction,  this  is  a 
time  of  God-seekers  and  of  prophets  of  the  truth. 
It  is  a  time  when  there  are  as  many  philosophies 
of  life  as  there  are  philosophers,  and  as  many 
prophecies  as  there  are  prophets.  Meanwhile, 
the  people  open  their  ears,  intent  upon  hearing 

1  Henrik  Pontoppidan,  Das  Gelobte  Land,  Jena,  1908,  (Trans- 
lated from  the  Danish  by  Mathilde  Mann,  having  been  published 
in  the  original  in  1895). 

122 


Pontoppidan's  "Promised  Land"  123 

that  word  of  truth,  which  shall  guide  them  out 
of  the  wilderness  of  doubt  and  uncertainty 
upon  the  highway  of  light  and  hope.  Pontoppi- 
dan  has  visualised  under  Danish  conditions  just 
such  a  confused  medley  of  prophecies  and  just 
such  a  popular  longing  for  the  word  that  shall 
save. 

The  reader  follows  the  people  of  the  two  little 
coast  villages,  Vejlby  and  Skibberup,  from  the 
church  of  the  despotic  high-churchman  to  that  of 
the  democratic  young  clerical,  from  the  church 
to  the  Socialist  gathering,  from  the  Socialists 
to  the  popular  religious  conference  of  the  "En- 
lightened Friends,"  and  from  the  latter  to  the 
pietistic  preacher  of  the  agonies  of  hell-fire. 
Always  in  the  foreground  or  in  the  background,  or, 
perhaps,  standing  at  one  side,  lost  in  introspection 
is  to  be  noticed  the  hero  of  the  tale,  Emanuel 
Hansted.  In  him  the  author  has  sublimated  the 
search  for  the  "Promised  Land"  and,  perhaps, 
too,  the  reader  is  to  assume  that  Emanuel,  the 
young  chaplain,  was  the  only  one  who  really 
discovered  the  way  leading  to  it.  The  way,  which 
he  discovered  after  much  seeking  and  much 
erring,  was  simply  the  footprints  of  Jesus,  who  had 
once  said:  "My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world," 
and  also:  "Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as 
thyself. "  It  may  be  chance  and  it  may  be  inten- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  author,  that  of  all  the 
"prophets"  the  one  who  turned  from  theology  and 
Church,  from  politics  and  Socialism  to  live  in  the 


124  Pontoppidan's  "Promised  Land" 

foot -prints  of  Jesus,  was  the  only  one  to  be  called 
deranged  and  insane  and  finally  to  die  in  despair 
as  to  his  mission  in  life. 

Emanuel  Hansted  might  have  enjoyed  all  the 
advantages  that  are  derived  from  wealth  and 
family  position,  if  he  had  not  inherited  certain 
mystical,  anti-worldly  tendencies  from  his  mother, 
which  became  evident  in  his  earliest  youth. 
From  his  thirteenth  year  on,  he  had  learned  to 
consider  himself  as  called  of  God,  to  minister  unto 
the  children  of  men. 

After  his  mother's  death,  Emanuel  had  become 
more  and  more  estranged  from  his  family  and  out 
of  sympathy  with  the  wealthy,  self-indulgent  life 
of  his  environment.  It  was  with  unspeakable 
relief  that  he  finally  received  an  appointment  as 
assistant  to  the  pastor  of  the  outlying  villages, 
Vejlby  and  Skibberup. 

Here,  among  the  unspoiled  peasant  people, 
the  young  man  believed  that  he  might  find  his 
"Promised  Land."  They  knew  nothing  of  the 
hollow  and  self-centred  standards  of  so-called 
cultured  society;  they,  who  derived  their  daily 
bread  and  simple  happiness  from  the  blessed 
labour  of  their  own  hands. 

In  the  thought  that  Christ's  teaching  of  broth- 
erly love  is  expressed  in  the  modern  formula — 
Freedom,  Equality,  Brotherhood — Emanuel  soon 
joined  the  ranks  of  the  Socialists  in  the  community, 
thus  declaring  his  opposition  to  his  high-handed, 


Pontoppidan's  "Promised  Land"  125 

doctrinaire  superior,  who,  for  his  part,  laid  great 
stress  upon  his  own  personal  authority  and  the 
prestige  of  his  position. 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  Emanuel  Hansted  became 
the  successor  of  Pastor  Tonnesen,  who  was  trans- 
ferred to  another  field  of  activity;  also  that  the 
former  sealed  the  bond  of  his  union  with  his  peasant 
congregations  by  marrying  the  daughter  of  one  of 
his  parishioners — an  unprecedented  and  sensa- 
tional event.  In  the  performance  of  the  roughest 
sort  of  labour  in  the  fields  and  in  counselling  his 
friends  and  neighbours  as  to  their  life  problems, 
as  to  political  policies,  modern  methods  of  agricul- 
ture, etc.,  Pastor  Hansted  thought  that  he  had 
actually  found  the  "Promised  Land." 

But  experience  did  not  justify  his  dreams  and 
hopes,  nor  those  of  the  people  of  Vejlby  and  Skib- 
berup,  that  the  day  was  about  to  break  when  all 
men  should  live  in  truth  and  justice  and  brotherly 
love.  Jealousy,  slander,  false  pride,  distrust,  and 
unchastity  were  rife.  Emanuel  himself  was  the 
object  of  bitter  criticism  for  having  associated 
with  the  family  of  the  worldly-minded  physician, 
where  he  had  met  again  the  daughter  of  his  prede- 
cessor, Ragnhild  Tonnesen.  In  her  beauty  and 
cold  pride  she  had  exerted,  as  before,  an  unaccount- 
ably disquieting  influence  over  him. 

The  outcome  of  these  conditions  was  an  open 
discussion,  in  which  Emanuel  charged  his  hearers 
to  look  within  themselves,  as  he  was  looking  into 
his  own  heart,  for  the  causes  of  their  ill-success. 


126  Pontoppidan's  "Promised  Land" 

His  earnest  and  frank  appeal  called  forth  only  a 
malignant  denunciation  of  the  mania  of  the  city- 
people  for  associating  with  and  flattering  the 
simple  peasant-folk.  The  speaker,  a  scheming 
mischief-maker  and  spy,  finally  expressed  the 
thought  that  they  were  at  last  through  with  this 
"fool's  comedy"  into  which  they  in  their  stupidity 
had  been  enticed. 

The  breach  was  final.  Emanuel  felt  that  he 
could  not  endure  the  situation  longer  and  decided, 
at  the  suggestion  of  his  wife,  to  return  to  his  family 
in  the  city,  until  he  found  himself  and  became  clear 
as  to  his  mission  in  life.  She,  the  peasant-woman, 
having  assured  herself  of  the  impossibility  of 
mutual  understanding  with  her  husband,  had 
quietly  laid  plans  to  have  him  and  the  two  children 
leave  her,  not  temporarily  but  permanently. 

Thus  the  first  and  less  important  stage  in  the 
life  of  Emanuel  Hansted.  The  transition  to  the 
second  is  marked  by  two  events;  the  temptation 
that  crossed  his  path  in  the  form  of  Ragnhild 
Tonnesen,  and  the  consequent  struggle  of  his  soul 
with  God,  whose  blessing  he  so  stubbornly  craved. 

The  second  and  final  period  in  Emanuel' s 
development  is  introduced  by  his  return  to  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  scene  of  his  earlier  endeav- 
ours, where  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  return  ulti- 
mately to  his  wife,  and,  perhaps,  to  take  up  again 
the  association  with  his  former  parishioners. 

At  first  he  lived  the  life  of  an  anchorite,  having 
to  do  only  with  his  sister  and  his  two  children. 


Pontoppidan's  "Promised  Land"  127 

He  prayed  and  fasted  and  spent  whole  days  out 
on  the  downs  overlooking  the  sea,  struggling  with 
the  temptations  of  the  flesh  and  the  intellect. 
He  came  gradually  to  a  clear  consciousness  of  the 
reason  of  his  previous  failure ;  namely,  that  he  had 
sought  for  the  things  of  this  world,  that  he  had 
followed  Christ  only  with  regard  to  outward  things. 
He  learned  to  seek  the  truth  within,  through  the 
little,  narrow  gate  of  the  heart,  over  which  Christ 
had  written  the  words :  "  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this 
world." 

But  not  until  his  wife  had  written  him  that  he 
could  never  return  to  her,  did  he  become  entirely 
and  permanently  sure  that  God  had  really  called 
him  to  become  the  messenger  of  truth,  the  prophet 
of  wrath  and  of  mercy.  He  had  at  last  placed  his 
life  within  God's  hand,  unreservedly  and  uncondi- 
tionally. God  had  taken  from  him  his  parish 
and  his  friends,  the  support  and  affection  of  his 
father,  and  now  his  wife  and  his  home.  He  had 
chastened  him  like  His  servant  Job,  that  he,  too, 
might  testify  to  the  goodness  of  the  Father,  even 
though  he  might  thus  give  offence  to  men. 

While  waiting  for  the  "sign"  as  to  what  he 
should  do,  Emanuel  went  out  among  the  miserable 
fisher-people  of  the  neighbourhood  and  offered 
them  the  peace  of  God.  The  appealing  gentleness 
of  his  look,  the  kindly  touch  of  the  hand,  and  the 
simple  friendliness  of  his  words  made  the  fisher- 
men feel  that  they  had  come  into  contact  with  that 
which  is  not  of  this  earth.  Many  asserted  that 


128  Pontoppidan's  ''Promised  Land" 

they  had  seen  an  halo  about  the  head  of  Emanuel, 
whose  expression,  blue  eyes,  fair  hair  and  beard 
reminded  them  of  the  Christ,  as  represented  on  the 
altar  in  the  church.  Soon  one  heard  reports  of 
miracles  that  he  had  performed.  It  was  surely 
a  fact  that  he  had  subdued  many  a  refractory 
spirit,  that  more  than  one  who  had  long  been  a 
stranger  to  the  church,  appeared  and  partook  of 
the  Lord's  supper.  But  Emanuel  lived  entirely 
apart  from  the  life  of  the  community,  not  even 
attending  the  services  of  the  near-by  church.  For 
he  had  come  to  think  that  the  Church  as  an  insti- 
tution was  marked  rather  by  the  outward  signs 
of  heathendom  than  by  the  inwardness  of  true 
Christianity;  such  a  Christianity  as  transforms 
the  earth  by  means  of  the  resplendent  rays  of  the 
Eternal  and  by  the  inextinguishable  love  of  man 
for  man.  So,  for  the  time,  Emanuel  lived  unto 
himself,  waiting  for  the  "sign." 

He  had,  nevertheless,  determined  to  take  part 
in  a  public  discussion  that  the  Community  of 
Friends  had  long  been  planning.  It  was  to  take 
place  in  the  neighbouring  "high  school,"  an  insti- 
tution originally  founded  by  Emanuel's  mother 
and  one  that  had  been  more  influential  than  others 
of  its  kind  in  popularising  modern  religious,  social, 
and  political  ideals. 

A  general  meeting  of  the  sort  planned  seemed 
particularly  desirable  at  just  this  time,  because  of 
the  inroads  being  made  by  the  sect  of  Pietists, 
on  the  one  hand,  and  because  of  the  uncertainty 


Pontoppidan's  "Promised  Land"  129 

as  to  the  radical  theology,  on  the  other.  Although 
the  Friends  were  "enlightened"  and  usually  ad- 
vocated rather  liberal  tendencies,  much  unrest 
and  real  distress  of  soul  was  caused  in  certain  circles 
by  the  denial  of  the  authenticity  of  Biblical  inspira- 
tion and  the  reality  of  hell.  People  had  come  for 
miles  in  order  to  hear  the  word  that  should  bring 
clearness  and  peace.  Pastors,  school-teachers, 
Representatives  of  Parliament,  a  university  pro- 
fessor, and  even  one  of  the  Cabinet  Ministers  were 
present,  thus  indicating  the  importance  attach- 
ing to  the  movement  of  the  Friends  and  also  to 
this  unusual  conference. 

The  tenseness  of  the  morning  session  soon  gave 
way  to  universal  confusion,  which  reached  its 
climax  when  a  vote  was  cast  as  to  the  divine  inspira- 
tion of  the  Holy  Writ.  The  conservative  element 
was  crowned  with  success,  but  it  was  a  success 
which  was  accompanied  by  a  movement  of  insurrec- 
tion. The  banner  of  revolt  was  lifted  up  by  "the 
free  men  and  women,  who  were  called  to  an  open 
fight  against  all  of  those  who  were  ready  to 
slavishly  subject  reason  to  the  yoke  of  authority. " 
This  summons  gave  rise  to  a  flood  of  excited  con- 
troversy, in  which  men  and  women  in  all  ranks 
and  conditions  vied  with  one  another  in  confessions, 
prophecies,  programs  of  reform.  The  glibness 
and  positiveness  with  which  the  ultimate,  saving 
truth  was  proclaimed  by  the  mixed  body  of 
"prophets"  justified  the  cynical  observation  of  an 
unsympathetic  outsider,  to  the  effect  that  "no 


130  Pontoppidan's  "Promised  Land" 

truths  seem  to  be  so  fleeting  as  just  the  'eternal 
truths.'" 

A  sudden  break  in  the  proceedings  was  caused 
by  the  appearance  of  the  much  talked-of  Emanuel 
Hansted,  who  was  supposed  by  most  sound- 
minded  people  to  have  become  mentally  deranged. 
But  the  leaders  of  the  conference  did  not  dare 
refuse  him  the  platform  because  of  his  faithful 
and,  perhaps,  fanatical  followers.  Every  eye  was 
fastened  upon  his  tall  figure  and  his  pale,  emaciated 
face,  as  he  went  forward  with  sunken  head  and 
hands  clasped  before  his  breast.  The  suspense 
was  increased  when  a  young  girl  cried  out  in  a 
shrill  voice :  ' '  Hosanna ;  blessed  is  He  who  cometh 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord. "  The  chorus  of  ' '  Hosan- 
na, Hosanna!"  was  taken  up  by  a  number  of 
heavy,  rough  voices. 

Emanuel,  more  like  a  spirit  than  a  human  being, 
stood  before  the  breathless  audience,  his  face 
sharply  outlined  by  the  two  lamps,  his  cheeks 
hollow  and  grey,  the  eyes  deep  and  dark.  He  then 
raised  his  arms  toward  Heaven  and  said:  "Speak, 
Lord,  .  .  .  Thy  servant  heareth. "  His  words 
seemed  to  be  answered  by  the  heavy  rumbling  of 
distant  thunder.  The  audience  shuddered.  Thus 
he  stood  with  uplifted  arms  and  closed  eyes, 
making  no  sound.  Gradually,  the  sweat  stood  out 
on  his  forehead,  his  body  began  to  shiver,  and  then, 
suddenly,  he  broke  down,  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands  and  sobbed  out:  "My  God!  My  God! 
Why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me!" 


Pontoppidan's  "Promised  Land"  131 

Hours  later,  as  Emanuel  wandered  aimlessly 
over  the  downs  in  the  rain,  his  mind  was  filled 
with  one  memory. 

It  was  the  memory  of  a  furious  uproar,  an  awful 
cry  from  thousands  of  mouths — and  then  of  a  sea  of 
endless  fire,  above  whose  flames  the  spirit  of  God  had 
revealed  itself  in  a  blinding  crown  of  brightness.  He 
was  surrounded  by  white  cherubim  with  long,  golden 
trumpets,  and  their  powerful  tones  had  cast  him  to 
the  ground.  .  .  .  Suddenly,  he  stopped,  he  shud- 
dered. For  as  he  looked  up,  he  saw  at  the  top  of  jthe 
hill  the  outlines  of  a  black  cross — it  was  a  cross-shaped 
signal  for  the  seafarers.  On  it  hung  a  body.  And 
in  the  suffering  face  beneath  the  crown  of  thorns,  he 
recognised  his  own  features.  Yes,  they  had  crucified 
him,  they  had  pierced  his  breast  with  lances,  beaten 
him  with  scourges,  and  crucified  him — And  now  he  was 
going  through  the  kingdom  of  the  dead.  .  .  . 

Gradually  Emanuel  came  to  his  senses;  he 
became  aware  of  the  rain  and  darkness  and  of  all 
that  had  happened.  Then  he  sat  down  and  wept 
like  a  child,  begging  God  that  he  should  take  him 
unto  Himself,  should  have  mercy  upon  him,  and 
give  him  rest. 

The  unfortunate  hero  of  The  Promised  Land 
never  arose  from  his  bed  again,  and  was  soon 
laid  at  rest  in  the  lonely  churchyard  out  on  the 
deserted  strip  of  land  that  overlooks  the  fjord. 

But  Emanuel  Hansted  did  not  die  unmourned, 
and  his  memory  is  not  forgotten.  Not  only  his 


132  Pontoppidan's  "Promised  Land" 

wife  and  children  visit  his  grave,  but  also  a  number 
of  the  men  and  women  who  come  from  the  vil- 
lage of  the  fishermen.  They  stand  about  the  grave 
of  their  former  friend,  motionless  and  lost  in 
prayer.  It  is  said  that  they  have  formed  a  sect, 
which  is  gradually  finding  more  and  more  adher- 
ents. Their  sole  purpose  is  to  live  quietly  and 
humbly  and  seek  to  imitate  the  perfections 
of  Emanuel.  Sundays  they  gather  and  repeat 
his  sayings  and  tell  of  the  wonderful  deeds  he 
performed. 

Remarkable  tales  are  coming  to  light  about 
Emanuel's  birth  and  early  life.  Some  say  that 
God  came  to  his  mother  when  she  bore  him  under 
her  heart,  and  blessed  her,  saying:  "Thou  shalt 
bear  a  Saviour  unto  mankind."  Others  tell  of 
his  fasting  as  a  boy,  so  that  he  might  give  his  food 
to  the  poor  and  needy.  All  of  his  followers  feel 
that  he  was  sacrificed  by  the  persecutions  of  the 
world.  In  order  that  men  may  not  forget  the 
life  of  this  true  follower  of  God,  a  certain  school- 
master is  collecting  all  of  the  material  pertain- 
ing to  Emanuel's  martyrdom  and  death,  for  the 
purpose  of  transmitting  an  authentic  report  to 
posterity. 

Thus  ends  the  story  of  the  "Promised  Land" 
of  the  Danes.  Old-fashioned  dogmatic  belief, 
enlightened  theology, — both  radical  and  conserva- 
tive— Socialism  and  finally  the  faith  of  the  fisher- 
men in  the  life  and  message  of  Emanuel  Hansted 


Pontoppidan's  "Promised  Land"  133 

have  found  a  place  in  the  setting  of  Pontoppidan's 
tale.  The  reader  will  ask  in  vain :  where  lies  the 
truth  in  the  mind  of  the  author?  He  may  dis- 
cern among  the  conflicting  currents  of  the  novel 
one  main  under-current,  from  which  the  others 
derive  impetus  and  momentum.  It  is  the  current 
of  longing  for  some  prophecy  of  truth ;  for  all  men 
seem  to  be  sorely  in  need  of  a  leader,  a  Saviour. 
Perhaps  the  author  wishes  also  to  intimate  to  the 
discerning  reader,  that  the  Saviour  to  come  will 
be  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  who  became  the  personal 
Saviour  of  Emanuel  Hansted,  the  "  Don  Quixote  "' 
of  the  "Promised  Land." 

1  "  Here  lies  the  successor  of  Don  Quixote  .  .  ."was  the  be- 
ginning of  the  epitaph,  suggested  by  the  worldly-wise  Pater 
Rudesheimer,  one  of  the  principal  characters  of  the  novel. 


HAUPTMANN'S    "  THE   FOOL  IN  CHRIST, 
EMANUEL  QUINT"1 

THE  chronicles  report  that  the  Messiah  to  the 
Jews  was  mocked,  buffeted,  and  spat  upon. 
It  is  a  striking  commentary  upon  the  Christianity 
of  to-day,  that  modern  authors  have  been  impelled 
to  portray  the  faithful  follower  of  this  same  Mes- 
siah, or  the  "Christ  regenerate,"  as  an  object 
worthy  of  scorn,  pity,  and  persecution  in  the  eyes 
of  the  world. 

Fogazzaro  makes  of  his  "Saint"  an  outcast, 
scoffed  at  by  all  except  a  handful  of  followers, 
a  stranger  in  the  world.  As  has  already  been 
quoted,  one  prelate  asserted,  that  if  the  "Saint" 
should  come,  he  would  either  be  sent  to  China  as  a 
missionary  or  imprisoned.  Widmann's  "Saint" 
was  ridiculed  by  all  of  the  animals,  except  the  far- 
seeing  lion,  because  he  asserted  the  goodness  of 
God  and  would  teach  the  law  of  love.  The  hero 
of  Pontoppidan's  novel  was  similarly  the  object  of 
scorn  and  indulgent  sympathy,  and  was  finally 
condemned  as  mentally  deranged.  The  attitude 
of  the  worldly-minded  church-man,  Bishop  Make- 
shyfte,  toward  the  visionary  Manson  and  his 

'Gerhart  Hauptmann,  Der  Narr  in  Christo,  Emanuel  Quint, 
Berlin,  1910. 

134 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"  135 

visionary  Church  was  denoted  in  the  discussion  of 
Kennedy's  drama.  Turning  from  literature  to 
actual  life,  it  is  well  known  that  many  considered 
Tolstoi  a  fool,  because  he  sought  to  live  the  simple 
life  of  Christ.  The  Dane,  Kierkegaard,  whose 
influence  upon  European  thought  is  becoming 
more  and  more  general,  took  the  life  of  Christ 
as  his  model  in  thorough -going  seriousness  and 
became,  as  he  said,  "a  fool  in  the  world."  The 
Christian  Church  had  as  little  place  for  him  as  it 
had  for  Tolstoi.  Christ  said  of  His  followers: 
"They  are  not  of  the  world  even  as  I  am  not  of  the 
world." 

The  question  is  forced  upon  one,  as  to  whether 
it  is  true  that  there  is  such  a  real  discrepancy 
between  him  who  is  sincerely  Christ-like  and  the 
every  day  Christian  as  the  above  evidence  would 
seem  to  indicate.  If  such  be  the  case,  there  may 
still  be  more  truth  than  hyperbole  in  Voltaire's 
cynical  remark  that  "since  Jesus  there  has  been 
but  one  Christian,  and  that  was  St.  Francis  of 
Assisi. " 

Gerhart  Hauptmann  has  approached  the 
"Christ  regenerate"  theme  from  the  point  of  view 
suggested  by  the  above  question,  and  made  that 
attitude,  which  was  more  or  less  incidental  in 
the  other  works,  the  principal  motif  of  his  novel. 
Its  text  might  well  be  the  "  unmodernity "  of 
Christ.  Its  title  is,  The  Fool  in  Christ,  Emanuel 
Quint.  The  hero  has  become  a  fool,  as  he  says  of 
himself,  for  the  sake  of  Christ.  He  is  scoffed  at, 


136  Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

hooted  at,  stoned,  imprisoned,  and  dies  as  an  out- 
cast, because  he  preaches  and  consistently  lives 
in  the  conviction  that  the  soul  is  more  than  the 
body,  that  selflessness  is  higher  than  selfishness, 
and  that  Christ  was  serious,  when  He  ordered  His 
followers  to  become  perfect,  as  He  was  perfect, 
even  as  God  Himself  is  perfect. 

It  is  true  that  the  author  treats  his  hero  with 
that  ironical  superiority  of  the  enlightened  man 
of  to-day,  carefully  motivating  the  folly  of  the 
poor,  simple  Emanuel  Quint — therein  consists  the 
originality  of  the  treatment  and  Hauptmann's 
important  contribution — but,  still,  the  reader 
feels  now  and  then  that  the  irony  of  it  all,  the 
"fool,"  is  a  commentary  upon  the  wisdom  of  the 
self-sufficient  world.  And  we  are  finally  forced  to 
concur  with  the  homeless  wanderer,  the  "Fool 
in  Christ,"  when  he  comes  to  this  consciousness: 
"My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world."  We  have 
seen  that  here  he  is  but  a  fool  and  the  leader  of  fools. 

Hauptmann  once  wrote:  "For  the  sorrow  of  the 
world  is  the  root  of  the  longing  for  heaven."1 
Emanuel  Quint  and  his  pitiable  Silesian  followers 
verify  the  truth  of  this  observation  with  reference 
to  life.  To  them  there  were  but  two  facts  in 
experience:  the  unutterable  misery  of  their  starv- 
ing lives,  and  the  unshaken  belief  in  the  promises 
of  the  Bible ;  particularly,  in  the  case  of  His  follow- 

1  Quoted  by  Schlenther  in  his  biography  of  Hauptmann  (p. 
173).  The  original  reference  was  to  the  calling  of  the  poet 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"  137 

ers,  the  belief  in  this  promise,  that  Christ  would 
return  and  establish  a  kingdom,  a  new  Zion, 
wherein  justice,  goodness,  and  plenty  would  pre- 
vail. In  the  world  of  dreams,  of  imagination, 
they  found  solace  for  their  earthly  want  and 
distress;  and  the  source  of  their  dreams  was  the 
only  book  they  knew — the  Bible.  It  became  their 
real  world. 

Emanuel's  first  sermon — as  he  stood  in  the 
midst  of  the  mocking  crowd,  skirted  by  whistling 
boys — was  inspired,  too,  by  deprivation  and  long- 
ing. He  imagined  things  which  were  not  of  this 
earth.  He  predicted  the  near  approach  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  and  bade  his  hearers  do 
penance.  In  the  words  of  Isaiah,  he  cried  out 
against  the  rulers  and  the  rich  that  they  "turn 
aside  the  needy  from  judgment  and  take  away 
the  right  from  the  poor  of  the  people."  When 
asked  concerning  his  calling,  he  answered: 

"I  am  a  tool.  It  is  my  calling  to  lead  men  to  repent- 
ance. I  am  a  workman  in  the  vineyard  of  God! — 
I  am  a  servant  of  the  world ! — I  am  a  preacher  in  the 
desert ! — One  who  confesses  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ, 
our  Lord  and  Saviour,  who  has  ascended  into  heaven, 
and  who  will  at  one  time  return,  again,  as  has  been 
promised  us." 

After  having  been  examined  by  the  local  authori- 
ties for  disturbing  the  peace  and  preaching  with- 
out sanction,  the  "Fool"  continues  upon  his  way, 
followed  by  two  credulous  weavers  who  at  last 


138  Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

hear,  in  his  words,  the  note  of  promise  which  has 
been  the  source  of  their  hope  and  courage  through 
many  an  hour  of  ceaseless,  deadening  labour. 

In  the  ensuing  conversation,  as  well  as  in  the 
situations  which  follow,  the  reader  is  struck  by  the 
similarity — if  not,  at  times,  identification — of 
Quint's  style  of  expression  with  that  of  Christ. 
The  following  quotation  will  indicate  how  mark- 
edly the  former  has  been  influenced  by  the  style 
of  the  Gospel  story: 

My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world.  In  this  world, 
however,  where  the  reward  of  sin  has  become  the 
sting  of  death,  the  strength  of  sin  has  become  law. 
Whosoever  is  wise,  let  him  understand.  But  I  am 
not  subject  to  the  power  of  sin,  and,  thus,  not  to  the 
law.  Therefore,  I  do  not  seek  my  honour  before  the 
law,  but  I  seek  in  myself,  alone,  the  honour  of  Him 
who  hath  sent  me. 

In  the  same  conversation,  Quint  turns  to  one 
of  his  principal  themes : 

God  is  a  spirit,  and  whosoever  worshippeth  Him, 
shall  worship  Him  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  The  holy 
men  of  God,  as  Peter  said,  are  everywhere.  As  long 
as  the  world  hath  stood,  holy  men  of  God  have 
talked,  inspired  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  But  the  same 
word,  whereby  the  light  shineth  upon  the  earth,  the 
same  word  darkeneth  the  light,  and  in  as  far  as  the 
spirit  doth  not  kill  the  word,  the  word  killeth  the 
spirit.  But  when  holy  men  talk  of  God,  straightway 
we  know  whose  spiritual  children  they  are.  God  is  a 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"  139 

spirit ;  thus  we  know  to  whom  and  of  whom'they  say, 
Father.  The  Father  is  a  spirit  and  those  who  are 
born  again  through  the  Holy  Spirit,  they  alone  will 
call  Him  Father,  and  will  be  called  children  of  God. 

We  can  well  believe  that  Emanuel  has  learned 
to  read  in  the  Bible  and  also,  as  he  himself  affirms, 
that  he  has  read  only  this  one  book.  Often  he 
seems,  in  fact,  to  speak  great  and  sacred  words  as 
his  own,  without  appreciating  that  he  is  but  an 
unlettered  "Fool"  and  is  simply  repeating  and 
elaborating  what  he  has  read  in  the  Bible.  And 
the  reader  would  fain  believe  that  he  himself  does 
not  know  when  he  passes  from  the  words  and 
figures  of  the  Gospels  to  his  own. 

It  was  due  not  alone  to  the  facility  with  which 
Emanuel  reproduced  the  words  and  thoughts  of 
Christ  that  he  owed  his  influence  over  the  first  of 
his  adherents,  but  to  a  greater  degree  to  certain 
similarities  to  Christ,  that  seemed  to  be  essentially 
a  part  of  his  personality.  The  reader  learns  best 
of  the  deep-seated  affinity  between  Quint  and  his 
Master  through  the  report  of  the  impression  made 
by  the  former  upon  the  preaching  lay-brother, 
Nathanael,  the  John  the  Baptist  of  our  tale.  The 
report  follows  in  detail,  because  it  indicates  how 
striking  the  likeness  to  Christ  must  have  been, 
that  it  disarmed  the  otherwise  sound  judgment  of 
the  honest  preacher ;  and  it  may  well  serve,  at  the 
same  time,  as  an  introductory  exposition  of  the 
character  of  Emanuel. 


140  Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

Brother  Nathanael  was  preaching  one  evening, 
at  the  beginning  of  Quint's  career,  on  the  text: 
"And  now,  also,  the  ax  is  laid  unto  the  root  of  the 
trees;  therefore,  every  tree  which  bringeth  not 
forth  good  fruit  is  hewn  down  and  cast  into  the 
fire."  Emanuel  had  wandered  by  chance  into 
the  schoolhouse  and  was  listening  to  the  sturdy 
champion  of  the  coming  kingdom  of  Christ,  while 
the  latter  condemned  the  powers  of  this  world 
with  words  of  lightning  and  flame — Nathanael's 
principal  source  being  the  Book  of  Revelations, 
which  naturally  inspired  most  of  the  adherents  of 
the  "New  Kingdom."  Our  attentive  listener, 
pale  and  distressed,  struck  his  breast  and  touched 
his  forehead  to  the  floor  repeatedly,  in  a  deep  sense 
of  his  guilt  and  un worthiness.  After  the  hour  of 
exhortation  had  passed  and  the  scant  audience 
had  dispersed,  Quint  approached  the  speaker  and 
asked,  all  but  timidly,  how  he  might  be  saved. 
His  query  lead  to  a  lengthy  and  animated  dis- 
cussion in  the  little  guest  chamber,  which  had  been 
assigned  to  the  wandering  "Brother  Nathanael," 
the  militant  herald  of  the  Kingdom  of  Zion  who  is 
likened  on  one  occasion  by  the  author  to  an  old, 
weather-beaten  warrior  from  the  time  of  Luther. 

The  reader  is  made  acquainted  with  the  content 
of  their  discussion  only  indirectly:  first,  through 
the  disturbing  effect  upon  the  spirits  of  Nathanael, 
after  he  appeared  at  the  supper  table;  and  then, 
through  the  impulsive  description  of  the  cause  of 
his  disquietude.  He  had  been  wonderfully  af- 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"  141 

fected  by  the  quiet  assurance  of  the  ill-clad 
Emanuel,  who  had  come  to  him  to  learn  of  the 
coming  Kingdom,  but  who,  in  reality,  had  taught 
his  would-be  teacher. 

But,  I  must  repeat,  [Nathanael  explains  to  his  host 
and  hostess,]  that  there  is  in  him  a  peculiar  touch  of 
simplicity  and  innocence.  In  this  man  there  is  a 
remarkable  faith,  altogether  simple,  altogether  con- 
vincing. While  looking  at  him,  these  words  occurred 
to  me  in  a  thoroughly  unaccountable  way:  "Surely  he 
hath  borne  our  sickness  and  carried  our  sorrows ;  yet 
we  did  esteem  him  stricken,  smitten  of  God  and 
afflicted."  And,  indeed,  he  seems  to  be  sick.  The 
red  spots  on  his  cheeks  are,  without  doubt,  an  indi- 
cation of  exhaustion.  But,  still,  it  is  hardly  possible 
that,  at  his  age,  his  martydom  could  be  so  great  as 
to  have  given  him  such  penetrating  insight  into  the 
pains  and  suffering  of  the  world.  It  is  astounding  to 
perceive  how  tenderly,  how  knowingly  his  hand 
passes  over  everything!  I  do  not  understand,  I  can- 
not comprehend  it. 

There  is  a  love  and  a  power  of  sympathy  in  this  man, 
whose  emaciated  body  gleams  through  the  tears  in  his 
shabby  clothes  at  many  places,  which  disarms  me  in  a 
certain  sense  and  moves  me  deeply.  There  seems  to 
speak  out  of  him  such  an  all-kind  spirit  of  mercy  that 
I  in  my  love  seem  as  though  dead  and  cruel. 

Nathanael  related,  then,  of  the  objections 
raised  by  Quint  concerning  the  words  quoted  by 
the  former  in  his  sermon  from  the  Book  of  Revela- 
tions, in  which  it  is  prophesied  that  the  wicked 


142  Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

will  be  tortured  with  fire  and  sword  before  the 
holy  angels  and  the  Lamb.  Quint  had  asserted 
that  such  was  not  the  spirit  of  the  Lamb,  but  was 
due  rather  to  a  hapless  misunderstanding,  that 
had  been  born  of  the  blindness  of  hate  on  the  part 
of  proselyting  apostles;  a  hate,  however,  "which 
hath  not  succeeded  in  destroying  the  eternal 
love  of  the  Saviour." 

Nathanael  continued,  partially  ignoring  the 
interruption  of  his  listener,  who  had  objected, 
because  Quint  questioned  the  infallibility  of  the 
Biblical  word: 

The  Saviour,  the  Saviour,  and  again  the  Saviour. 
Nothing  can  be  said  against  it.  When  one  has  the 
unmistakable  impression  that  he  has  found  his  peace 
in  the  bosom  of  the  Lamb.  Jesus,  Jesus,  and  always 
Jesus.  This  young  believer  knows  nothing  else. 
And  this  Jesus  has  said:  "The  letter  killeth;  the 
spirit  giveth  life."  We  are  marching  in  advance  of 
this  Jesus.  Who  can  tell  in  what  way  He  will  come? 
Who  can  say  whether  He  will  come  to-day  or  to- 
morrow, or  twelve  hundred  years  hence?  I  laid  my 
hands  in  blessing  upon  the  head  of  the  young  man,  so 
pure  in  heart  and  so  good,  and  the  words  of  the  Saviour 
came  to  me:  "Whatsoever  ye  have  done  unto  one  of 
the  least  of  these,  my  brethren,  that  ye  have  done 
unto  me." 

Then  the  mystical  tendency  of  Nathanael 
gained  the  upper  hand,  and  he  began  to  ruminate 
upon  the  possible  significance  of  these  words  of 
the  Lord,  with  reference  to  the  pale  stranger: 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"  143 

Who  can  say,  when  I  attack  some  one  harshly, 
whether  it  is  not  Jesus  Himself?  Who  can  say 
whether  the  Saviour  Himself  may  not  be  in  this 
man?  Is  it  not  altogether  within  His  power  to 
traverse,  again,  the  way  of  human  lowliness  and 
human  distress?  Is  not  this  within  His  power  hourly 
and  from  day  to  day?  Dear  brother,  in  Christ  [he 
concluded]  I  know  what  I  say — this  young  man  may 
be  the  Saviour  in  His  own  person !  Yes,  in  a  certain 
sense,  he  quite  definitely  is  the  Saviour. 

If  Emanuel,  a  man  of  remarkable  simplicity 
and  even  naivete  of  nature,  impresses  Nathanael 
as  being  like  unto  Christ,  "in  a  certain  sense"  the 
Saviour  Himself,  will  not  others  have  the  same 
thought?  Will  not,  perhaps,  Emanuel  come  to 
believe  the  same  thing  of  himself?  As  will  be 
seen,  the  formative  influence  of  outward  circum- 
stances, enforced  by  the  mystical  tendency  of 
Emanuel's  nature  and  his  devotion  to  the  all- 
absorbing  idea  of  Christ,  all  but  imperceptibly 
impels  him  to  lose  his  own  identity  in  that  of 
Christ.  He  proclaims  himself  not  alone  the  con- 
fessor of  Christ  but  also  His  successor;  yes, 
finally,  the  very  Christ  Himself.  The  gradual 
development  of  this  stage,  which  is  evidently  the 
climax  of  his  folly,  is  outlined  by  the  author  with 
remarkable  fineness  of  perception  and  psycho- 
logical faithfulness. 

In  the  essay  on  the  Over-Soul,  Emerson  writes: 
"Ineffable  is  the  union  of  man  and  God  in  every 
act  of  the  soul.  The  simplest  person  who,  in  his 


144  Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

integrity,  worships  God,  becomes  God."  In  just 
this  sense  Emanuel  Quint  is  convinced  that  the 
Father  is  in  him  and  that  Christ  is  in  him.  He 
considers  that  the  God-Spirit  is  in  all  men — such 
is  the  secret  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven, — that 
mankind  is  the  dwelling  place  of  God,  that  men, 
some  pre-eminently  so,  are  the  channels  of  deity. 
This  latter  thought  he  expresses  most  succinctly 
in  the  words: 

I  am  a  human  being,  and  my  fate  on  earth  can  be 
nothing  less  than  the  way  of  the  Lord  in  man.  But 
no  other  than  Jesus,  the  Saviour,  has  given  so  pure  an 
example  of  the  way  and  course  of  the  Lord  upon  earth. 
Therefore,  the  life  of  Jesus  is  my  goal. 

Hauptmann  portrays  with  unfailing  psycho- 
logical insight  the  growth  of  the  aim  on  the  part 
of  his  hero,  to  live  like  the  Christ,  who  had  once 
commanded  his  followers  to  become  like  unto 
Him.  This  aim  became  gradually  the  all-absorb- 
ing and  all-encompassing  purpose  of  his  thinking 
and  musing  and  dreaming,  until  it  bore  such  fruit 
as  Emanuel,  in  his  real  humility  of  spirit,  had 
never  dared  imagine.  For  he  had  often  assured  his 
followers  that  he  was  but  a  man  among  men, 
humble  and  unworthy.  In  fact,  the  very  day 
preceding  his  inner  transformation,  he  assured 
the  gendarme,  who  had  taken  him  and  his  twro 
trusty  weaver  friends  into  custody,  that  he  would 
not  be  emboldened  to  say  that  he  was  a  Chris- 
tian; for  wherever  there  is  a  Christian,  there  is 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"  145 

Christ,  and  Christ  is  concealed  in  him.  "To  be 
a  Christian,"  he  adds,  "is  nothing  else  than  to 
be  Christ." 

But  a  great  change  came  over  his  spirit  in  the 
ensuing  night,  while  he  was  confined  in  a  solitary 
cell.  The  "  Fool  in  Christ "  dreamed  such  a  dream 
as  was  more  real  and  more  enduring  than  the 
realest  experience.  He  imagined  that  he  heard 
the  door  of  his  prison  cell  creak ;  and  upon  looking 
up,  he  beheld  the  figure  of  Christ  Himself,  a  dust- 
covered  wanderer.  Emanuel  fell  down,  overcome 
by  love  and  pity,  and  he  bathed  the  scarred  feet 
of  his  Master  with  tears.  And  Christ  asked  him 
twice  if  he  loved  Him.  As  Emanuel  assured  Him 
that  he  loved  Him  more  than  himself,  Christ 
told  him  that  He  would  always  remain  with  him. 
Thereupon  they  approached  one  another  with 
outstretched  arms — and  now  follows  the  miracu- 
lous consecration  of  Emanuel;  for  each  walked 
literally  into  the  being  of  the  other,  and  Quint 
felt  distinctly  in  every  nerve,  in  every  pulse-beat, 
in  every  drop  of  blood,  the  marvellous  influence 
of  this  indescribably  intimate  union.  It  was  a 
mystical  wedding  of  his  soul  and  body  with  that 
of  Christ — incomprehensible,  but  undeniable  and 
unforgetable.  From  this  time  on,  the  poor,  un- 
balanced Emanuel,  deeply  conscious  of  his  calling, 
presumes  to  take  the  words  of  Christ  into  his 
mouth  as  his  own,  to  take  upon  himself  the  right 
of  leadership,  as  though  invested  with  a  fief  from 
God.  On  one  occasion — to  illustrate  how  com- 


146   Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

pletely  he  was  possessed  of  this  delusion — the 
"Fool"  turned  to  the  crowd  of  bystanders,  con- 
sisting in  part  of  fanatical  apostles,  but  largely  of 
persecutors  with  stones  in  their  hands,  and  cried 
out:  "Hear  ye  the  words  of  Christ,  the  Son  of 
God !  Hear  ye  the  words  of  the  Son  of  Man  as  the 
Father  moves  him  to  speak  them.  For  the  Father 
is  with  me,  who  hath  anointed  me  and  sent  me." 
Even  more  directly,  while  demolishing  the  orna- 
ments of  a  Catholic  church — the  relics  not  of 
life,  but  of  death — Quint  called  out  to  the  out- 
raged priest:  "I  am  Christ." 

The  distinction  of  being  called  the  "Fool  in 
Christ "  is  due  not  alone  to  the  quasi-identification 
of  Quint's  style  and  content  of  expression,  as  well 
as  of  his  personality,  with  that  of  Christ,  but 
finally  to  the  marked  parallelism  existing  between 
the  course  of  his  experiences  in  the  last  two  or 
three  years  of  his  life,  and  the  public  life  of 
Christ. 

By  way  of  introduction,  reference  might  well  be 
made  to  certain  outward  similarities.  Emanuel's 
figure,  his  face,  his  hair,  his  beard — in  a  word — 
his  whole  presence  called  forth  the  impression 
in  some  cases  immediately,  that  he  might  easily 
be  the  Christ,  if  the  Christ  were  to  return,  as  had 
been  promised.  The  fact,  also,  that  Emanuel's 
mother  was  married  to  another  than  his  father, 
of  whom  he  knew  nothing,  seemed  to  the  confused 
mind  of  the  "Fool"  to  be  a  cause  of  satisfaction, 
because  his  Master  was  fatherless  also.  Further- 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    147 

more,  Emanuel,  when  not  dreaming  his  dreams 
and  reading  his  Book  of  Books,  was  of  some  little 
assistance  in  the  workshop  of  his  step-father,  who 
was  a  carpenter  by  trade. 

More  important  than  such  outward  marks  are 
the  events  of  the  life  of  Emanuel  Quint,  which 
point  directly  to  the  source  of  his  inspiration. 
They  indicate,  too,  how  closely  and  in  what 
manner  the  author  has  followed  the  Gospel 
narrative.1  That  the  nature  of  the  parallelism 
may  become  more  clear,  it  seems  advisable  to 
recount  several  of  Quint's  important  experiences 
consecutively  and  in  some  detail.  I  shall  refer  to 
such  incidents  as  group  themselves  about  his  bap- 
tism at  the  hands  of  the  itinerant  Nathanael,  his 
withdrawal  into  the  mountain  wilderness,  and, 
finally,  to  the  later  return  to  men,  and  their  recep- 
tion of  him  and  his  message. 

Nathanael,  who  has  already  been  likened  to 
John  the  Baptist,  was  a  man  of  much  influence 
among  the  members  of  a  pietistic  sect,  largely 
represented  in  the  Silesian  district,  in  which  the 
scene  of  the  novel  is  laid.  The  fact  that  such  a 
man  had  been  so  deeply  affected  by  Quint  and  was 
willing,  if  not  anxious,  on  the  day  subsequent  to 
the  first  interview,  to  perform  the  sacred  rites  of 
baptism,  was  significant  in  the  development  of 
Emanuel  and  went  far  toward  confirming  in  him 

1  It  is  reported  that  Hauptmann  had  himself  written  a  Life 
of  Christ  and  that  the  manuscript  was  upon  his  desk  during  the 
composition  of  The  Fool  in  Christ. 


148   Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

the  fateful  delusion  that  was  gradually  shaping 
itself  in  his  mind. 

In  the  midst  of  idyllic  surroundings — portrayed 
with  a  poet's  hand — Quint  confessed  to  Nathanael 
the  foolish  ambition  of  his  youth;  namely,  to 
realise  in  his  own  person  the  promise  of  Jesus,  who 
had  said  that  He  would  give  to  him  that  believeth 
the  power  to  perform  the  same,  and  even  greater 
miracles  than  He  had  performed.  And  thus 
Emanuel  had  been  filled  with  a  desire  to  become  a 
wonder-working  leader  among  men,  to  preach  to 
sinners  and  heal  them  of  their  sins — he,  who  now 
felt  himself  to  be  the  greatest  among  sinners. 
The  deep-seated  humility  of  the  "Fool,"  in  con- 
junction with  the  genuineness  and  simplicity  of 
his  faith,  so  affected  Nathanael  that  the  latter 
wished  to  be  baptised  at  his  hands.  In  the  friendly 
strife  that  followed,  the  "  Fool "  finally  persuaded 
the  older  man  to  give  him  his  baptismal  bless- 
ing in  the  waters  of  the  near-by  stream. 

The  author  pictures  a  scene  of  primeval  beauty 
as  a  setting  for  the  performance  of  the  rites  of 
baptism.  Spring  has  lent  all  of  its  charms  to 
perfect  the  background  of  the  act,  contemplated 
by  the  erring  participants.  The  clear  water  re- 
flects the  gleaming  blue  of  the  sky  and  the  grace- 
ful branches  of  the  overhanging  trees.  The 
flowers  bedeck  the  meadow  and  birds  dart  from 
h bush  to  bush  and  call  out  with  the  joy  of  spring. 
It  seems  like  the  Garden  of  Eden,  when  the  naked 
Emanuel,  simple  and  poor  in  spirit,  steps  into  the 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    149 

water  to  receive  the  benediction  of  the  lay-brother, 
who  is  moved  to  tears  in  the  blinding  ecstasy 
of  the  moment.  Through  the  eyes  of  Emanuel  he 
had  seen  the  coming  Kingdom  as  he  had  never 
seen  it  before;  for  it  was  more  real  to  the  former 
than  all  the  realities  of  this  mundane  earth, 
Accordingly  it  seemed  not  at  all  strange  to  Nathan  - 
ael  when  a  pair  of  wild  doves  shot  out  of  the 
branches  of  the  neighbouring  birch-trees  and 
flashed  over  the  head  of  Emanuel  Quint.  He 
half  fancied,  indeed,  that  the  heavens  opened 
above  the  naked  man.  Thus  Emanuel  was  set 
apart,  was  consecrated  to  the  service  of  the  coming 
Kingdom  by  one  whose  authority  was  unques- 
tioned in  the  mind  of  the  inexperienced  Quint. 

It  was  in  the  early  days,  after  the  "blasphemy" 
of  the  baptism — to  borrow  a  word  of  the  author — 
that  the  all-absorbing  thought  took  possession 
of  the  "Fool"  with  new  force,  that  Jesus  had 
ordered  His  followers  to  be  like  unto  Him.  This 
thought  led  him  to  eat,  drink,  to  live  and  sleep 
in  the  "footprints  of  Jesus";  to  be  like  Him  in  all 
things,  to  suffer  and  endure  what  He  endured. 
Accordingly,  he  went  up  into  the  mountain  fast- 
nesses for  forty  days  in  order  that  his  Master 
might  cast  him  aside,  or  approve  him  and  give 
him  the  light  of  His  spirit. 

While  in  the  mountains,  his  temptations  were 
altogether  real.  What  with  the  Devil  whispering 
into  his  ear  that  he  should  turn  the  stones  to  bread, 
and  the  abyss  mockingly  enticing  him  to  leap 


150   Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

below,  his  fevered  imagination  conjured  the  most 
weird  and  horrible  and  the  most  seductive  shapes, 
such  as  that  of  a  naked  woman,  dancing  a  volup- 
tuous dance,  and  the  world  laughing  and  promis- 
ing him  all  glory  and  honour  and  wealth.  And 
worst  of  all,  the  words,  born  of  the  demons  of  the 
desolate  mountain  loneliness:  "Thou  Son  of 
God,  thouSonof  God!" 

But  Quint  fought  with  untiring  persistency 
against  all  the  shapes  which  came  between  him  and 
his  God.  He  often  lay  exhausted  upon  the  rocks, 
after  struggling  with  the  powerful  tempter,  to 
whom  he  had  cried  in  vain:  "Get  thee  behind  me, 
Satan."  Gradually,  however,  the  inner  peace 
came,  that  heralded  a  complete  transformation 
of  his  conception  of  life  and  his  mission.  The 
author  styles  this  change,  "one  of  the  most 
peculiar  processes, "  because  the  confused  fancies 
of  Quint's  earlier  days  are  gradually  replaced  by  a 
rather  thorough-going  system  of  belief. 

The  basis  of  the  new  faith  was  the  conviction 
that  God  had  become  man  in  the  person  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  that  it  was  the  humanity  of  Christ 
that  called  for  our  love  and  emulation.  Accord- 
ingly, Emanuel  determined  to  avoid  all  things 
that  were  not  of  the  world  of  man, — all  ecstatic 
indulgences  and  expressions,  all  exaggerations, 
all  that  partook  of  the  marvellous,  the  mystical, 
even  of  the  striking.  He  would  neither  be  a 
teacher,  nor  an  apostle,  nor  a  prophet;  he  would 
neither  threaten,  nor  promise,  nor  command; 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    151 

but,  like  a  child,  he  would  be  the  last  and  the 
least,  serving  Jesus  in  secret  by  serving  his  fellow- 
men. 

Closely  related  to  the  belief  that  man  knows 
the  divine  only  in  as  far  as  it  has  become  human, 
is  the  conviction  that  the  spirit  of  man  is  a  part 
of  the  God-spirit.  This  delusion — "inspired  by 
a  spirit  which  can  hardly  be  called  good  " — became 
so  fixed  that  Quint  interpreted  all  life  in  harmony 
with  it  and  even  the  only  prayer  which  he  prayed 
the  Lord's  Prayer.  For  example,  he  asked  to 
whom  the  words,  "Thy  kingdom  come,"  were 
addressed. 

Again  it  appeared  to  him  as  though  they  were 
directed  to  the  Spirit.  It  seemed  as  though  he  opened 
up  within  himself  with  these  words  a  sacred  spring, 
as  though  he  wakened  a  pure,  holy  striving,  a  new  and 
active  and  holy  spirit;  and  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven 
was — of  this  he  was  deeply  convinced — within  us. 

Thus  the  "Fool"  dethroned  the  personal  God, 
for  he  believed  that  Jesus  had  done  this.  God 
dwelled  in  the  spirit  and  in  a  higher  sense,  His 
life  consisted  in  the  combined  soul-life  of  all 
mankind.  Emanuel  often  imagined  that  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  held  a  light  in  his  hand 
and  that  the  light  of  their  lights  flowed  together, 
making  a  sea  of  light.  This  picture  indicated  to 
him  that  God  was  in  each  human  being  and  that 
men,  although  separated  in  body,  were  bound 
together  by  the  God-light,  the  God-light  which 


152   Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

was  love.  Such  was  his  secret  and  such  was  the 
foundation  of  the  Kingdom. 

After  the  "Fool"  had  learned  of  the  Kingdom 
in  this  sense,  he  felt  an  insatiable  longing,  an 
hungering  love  for  human  beings.  In  the  love 
of  Jesus  and  the  love  of  God,  he  was  filled  with  a 
new  knowledge  of  the  worth  and  calling  of  man. 
Overcome  by  the  glory  of  this  knowledge,  of  this 
unsurpassing  rediscovery  of  Jesus'  teaching,  he 
determined  to  deny  his  petty,  individual  life, 
in  order  to  become  a  part  of  the  great  Life  and 
Light  and  Love.  The  "Fool"  believed  that  he 
had  discovered  anew  the  secret  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven,  that  he  had  found  the  road  which  had 
been  trodden  by  Jesus  twenty  centuries  ago. 
With  the  intention  of  treasuring  the  secret  of  the 
Kingdom  in  his  own  heart,  he  went  out  to  lead  a 
life  of  quiet  service  among  his  fellows. 

Little  had  the  "Fool"  appreciated,  how  diffi- 
cult, how  impossible  it  is  for  him  who  has  qualities 
of  leadership  to  be  simply  a  subaltern,  simply  to 
serve,  and  particularly  in  a  time  when  many  men 
are  looking  and  longing  for  a  leader  who  shall 
point  the  way  to  some  land  of  promise.  It  required 
but  little  imagination  for  the  people — "the  people 
of  distress" — to  whom  Emanuel  returned,  to 
identify  this  man  with  the  miracle-working  pro- 
phet of  the  Kingdom  of  God  upon  earth.  For, 
had  he  not  preached  in  the  market-place:  "Re- 
pent ye,  repent  ye,  for  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  at 
hand?"  Had  he  not  spoken,  with  the  conviction 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    153 

of  a  seer,  of  the  real  and  present  love  of  God  and 
of  the  Saviour?  Had  he  not  called  himself  the 
"Son  of  Man"?  Had  he  not  soothed  the  spirit 
of  the  father  of  one  of  his  followers,  so  that  he 
could  sleep  as  he  had  not  slept  in  months?  Had 
he  not  aroused  a  young  girl  from  the  depths  of  a 
death-like  trance?  And  withal,  did  he  not  look 
like  the  Christ  and  speak  in  His  words?  Thus 
the  "  Fool "  became  the  leader  of  fools.  He  was 
thrust  quite  unwillingly  into  a  course  of  lies,  that 
he,  of  himself,  never  would  have  chosen. 

At  his  side  were  his  two  fanatical  apostles — 
brothers,  not  unlike  Simon  Peter  and  Andrew — 
who  exaggerated  his  poor  deeds  of  kindness,  until 
they  took  on  the  aspect  of  miracles;  who  inter- 
preted his  promises  of  the  coming  Kingdom  in  the 
sense  that  they  referred  to  an  earthly  paradise, 
in  which  the  poor  and  lowly  would  be  exalted,  and 
they,  his  first  supporters,  should  reap  the  fruits 
of  their  faith.  When  Emanuel,  having  returned 
from  the  mountains,  had  asked  them  who  they 
considered  him  to  be,  these  dreamers  had  replied: 
"The  anointed  of  the  Lord."  Although  the 
"Fool, "  overcome  with  terror  at  these  words,  had 
reproved  them  and  forbidden  them  to  repeat 
their  opinion,  still  the  rumour  gradually  spread 
that  the  dawn  of  the  new  Kingdom  was  to  break, 
that  the  Christ  had  returned.  And  the  sick  and 
the  maimed,  the  hungry  and  the  outcasts  thronged 
to  the  miserable  hut  in  the  mountains,  where  Quint 
was  being  entertained.  Overfilled  with  pity,  he 


154   Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

told  them  that  he  was  no  more  than  they,  that  he 
was  sick  and  poor,  with  no  power  to  heal  nor  to 
cure.  He  also  told  them  of  the  world  of  spirit 
and  urged  them  to  be  born  anew  of  the  spirit, 
thus  becoming  sons  of  God,  in  the  same  sense  as 
he  was  the  son  of  God. 

The  outcome  of  this,  the  "Fool's"  Sermon  on 
the  Mount,  was  only  that  their  demands  for  a 
miracle  increased  and  their  conviction  as  to  his 
power  was  confirmed,  for  he  had  called  himself 
the  "Son  of  God."  Accordingly,  Emanuel  was 
forced  to  steal  away  into  the  mountains;  but, 
wherever  he  went,  there  were  those  who  had 
heard  of  him.  His  protests  availed  him  nothing. 
The  band  of  followers  increased.  A  small  group  of 
"disciples"  attached  themselves  more  and  more 
intimately  to  him.  Of  this  group,  the  two  red- 
haired  weavers  formed  the  nucleus.  They  were 
closely  associated  with  a  smith,  a  tailor,  and  also 
a  wild-eyed  smuggler,  who  later  played  the  Judas 
to  the  "Fool  in  Christ. "  The  human  bands  were 
closing  around  him  more  and  more  firmly. 

The  credulity,  the  self-centred  ambition,  and 
the  lack  of  understanding  on  the  part  of  the  motley 
band  of  Quint's  followers  are  naturally  more  crude 
than  was  the  case  with  the  apostles  of  Jesus,  but 
still  it  is  similar  in  kind.  Quint  was  often  forced 
to  charge  them  with  a  lack  of  faith  and  to  reproach 
them  bitterly,  when  they  insisted  upon  some  sign. 
They  wanted  just  the  least  little  miracle,  or, 
perhaps,  even  the  sight  of  the  Heavenly  Father. 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    155 

They  had  given  up  their  all  and  followed  him,  and 
now  they  demanded  some  reward.  They  wished 
to  know  when  the  new  Kingdom — which  was 
even  at  the  door — should  be  ushered  in,  what 
should  be  the  fruits  of  their  sacrifice  and  faithful- 
ness, and  what  preferment  should  be  theirs. 
Little  did  it  avail  the  "Fool"  to  point  out  the 
incalculable  difference  between  the  bread  which  his 
sorry  followers  wanted — the  leaven  of  the  Phari- 
sees and  Sadducees — and  the  bread  which  he  had 
to  give.  As  Christ  had  said  to  Peter:  "Thou 
savourest  not  the  things  which  be  of  God,  but  the 
things  which  be  of  man,"  so  Emanuel  Quint  bade 
his  "apostles"  free  themselves  from  the  service 
of  that  which  passeth  away  and  seek  the  glorious 
freedom  of  the  children  of  God;  for  the  Kingdom 
which  he  would  preach,  was  a  Kingdom  not  of 
justice  nor  revenge,  but  a  Kingdom  of  love;  not 
one  of  gold  and  rich  clQthes,  but  one  of  the  spirit. 
For  God  is  a  spirit  and  Christ  is  a  spirit,  and  he  who 
is  a  child  of  the  spirit  is  one  with  God  and  Christ. 

Quint  became  still  more  closely  bound  to  his 
associates,  because  of  the  persecutions  to  which  he 
and  they  were  subjected;  first,  on  the  part  of  the 
civil  authorities,  who  compelled  him  to  return  to 
his  home,  and,  secondly,  on  the  part  of  the 
"unbelievers"  of  his  home  city,  who  did  not 
hesitate  to  resort  to  corporeal  abuse. 

On  account  of  such  persecutions,  Quint  suc- 
cumbed to  an  attack  of  fever  and  lung  trouble, 
that  entailed  a  lengthy  separation  from  his  follow- 


156  Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

ers  and  provided  him  opportunity  to  read  much 
and  to  associate  with  people  of  intelligence  and 
enlightenment.  The  separation  served,  besides, 
to  bring  about  a  close  organisation  of  Quint's 
"disciples"  in  a  deserted  mill  belonging  to  one 
of  their  number.  They  called  themselves  the 
"Brotherhood  of  the  Secret,"  Quint's  "Secret," 
of  which  they,  naturally,  had  not  the  least 
appreciation. 

Both  of  these  facts  have  considerable  bearing 
upon  the  later  action.  Outwardly  Quint  and  the 
body  of  his  followers  are  more  closely  united; 
in  another,  and  far  more  important  sense,  they 
become  irrevocably  separated.  In  the  period  of 
introspection  and  reflection,  Quint  became  fully 
conscious  of  the  fundamental  differences  as  to 
aims  and  purposes. 

It  will  now  be  possible  to  treat  the  similarities 
between  the  Gospel  story  and  that  of  Emanuel 
Quint  much  more  summarily;  in  the  first  place, 
because  the  character  of  the  parallelism  will  have 
become  evident,  and  secondly,  because  such 
similarities  are  less  numerous  and  somewhat  more 
of  an  external  nature.  In  fact,  through  the  first 
part  of  the  novel,  one  can  all  but  read  the  story  of 
Jesus'  life  between  the  lines.  In  the  latter  part, 
where  Quint  enters  into  the  complicated  conditions 
of  modern  life — the  turning  point  being  in  the 
period  of  convalescence — he  seems  to  lose  the 
inner  unity  of  purpose  and  the  self-assurance 
that  is  derived  from  being  at  one  with  oneself. 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    157 

He  becomes  more  reflective  and  argumentative. 
To  increase  the  effect  of  inner  discord,  the  author 
becomes  more  and  more  inclined  to  treat  his  hero 
with  sympathetic,  if  not  pitying,  condescension. 
The  result  of  this  change  of  attitude,  is  that  the 
parallel  situations  are  less  an  integral  part  of  the 
Quint  action,  and  have  entered  less  into  the  web 
and  woof  of  Hauptmann's  conception. 

Among  the  incidents  that  may  be  paralleled 
in  the  career  of  Quint's  Master,  is  the  raising  up 
of  the  fallen  woman,  who  followed  him  with  the 
faithful  devotion  of  her  prototype,  Mary  Magda- 
lene. Mention  should  be  made  of  his  love  for 
little  children,  to  whom  he  talked  in  the  parables 
of  the  Bible,  and  in  whom  he  found  the  true  heirs 
of  the  Heavenly  Kingdom.  The  sisters,  Mary 
and  Martha,  have  influenced  the  characterisa- 
tion of  two  of  Quint's  friends,  the  one  becoming  a 
Sister  of  Mercy  and  following  him  to  the  end. 
The  account  of  the  rich  man  finds  a  natural  place 
in  the  setting  of  our  story,  as  well  as  the  purifying 
of  a  Catholic  church,  which  suggests  Jesus'  attack 
on  the  money-changers  in  the  Temple.  We  see 
the  "Fool"  striking  violently  with  his  staff  among 
the  relics  and  ornaments  of  the  altar,  and  finally 
against  the  cross  itself,  crying,  as  though  possessed : 

God  is  enthroned  neither  upon  corpses  nor  skulls. 
If  ye  have  nailed  God  to  the  cross,  so  take  him  down — 
but  the  time  must  come  when  one  will  worship  God 
neither  in  this  nor  that  hill,  neither  in  this  nor  that 


158   Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

house,  neither  in  this  nor  that  church,  neither  in  this 
cathedral  nor  in  that  dome,  but  only  in  spirit  and  in 
truth. 

This  quotation  suggests,  in  turn,  Quint's  attitude 
toward  prayer,  toward  the  letter  of  the  Bible, 
miracles  and  outward  rites,  which  was,  evidently, 
either  determined  or  strongly  influenced  by  that 
of  Jesus. 

Finally,  without  attempting  to  provide  an  ex- 
haustive list  of  the  parallels,  the  scenes  of  the  Last 
Supper  are  re-enacted  in  an  outlying  restaurant. 
Emanuel  washes  the  feet  of  his  "apostles"  and 
wins  them,  for  the  moment,  through  his  true 
humility  of  spirit,  but  when  the  ill-favoured  traitor 
appears  to  announce  that  the  authorities  are 
seeking  Quint  on  a  criminal  charge,  the  disgruntled 
followers  slink  off  one  by  one,  and  Emanuel  returns 
to  the  city  alone  in  order  to  give  himself  up  to  the 
police,  who  have  accused  him  of  an  odious  crime. 

In  spite  of  the  identification  of  style,  the  partial 
identification  of  personality,  as  well  as  the  marked 
parallelism  in  the  career  of  Christ  and  that  of 
Emanuel  Quint,  the  reader  must  not  forget  that 
Hauptmann  causes  his  hero — a  simple  "Fool" — 
to  move  constantly  on  a  lower  plane.  In  proof 
of  this  it  will  suffice  to  refer  briefly  to  the  character 
of  his  followers,  to  the  manner  of  his  betrayal,  and, 
finally,  to  the  outcome  of  the  trial. 

Among  Quint's  "apostles"  were  ranting  fanat- 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    159 

ics  and  moral  outcasts,  who,  during  the  prolonged 
period  of  separation  from  their  "Master,"  in  the 
"Brotherhood  of  the  Secret,"  practised  mad 
orgies  and  indulged  in  emotional  and  even  sensual 
excesses.  When  Quint  finally  appeared  before 
them,  in  order  to  castigate  them  for  their  wild 
practices,  they  fell  down  before  him,  kissing  his 
hand  with  the  utmost  fervour  and  tenderness. 
After  one  such  occasion,  some  swore  that  they  felt 
the  earth  tremble  and  heard  subterranean  mutter- 
ings;  others  claimed  to  have  seen  a  marvellous 
falling  of  stars  in  the  sky,  and  to  others  it  seemed 
as  though  the  sky  became  as  red  as  blood  and  as 
light  as  day.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  we  hear  the 
author  dispassionately  pointing  out  that  such 
notions  were  altogether  due  to  an  abnormal 
psychological  condition;  the  alienist  would  term 
it  a  "brain-storm. " 

The  presentation  of  the  betrayal  and  trial  of 
Quint  is  another  case  in  point.  Among  his 
followers  was  a  cunning  smuggler  who  looked  more 
like  an  ape  or  a  poodle  than  a  human  being.  This 
man  enticed  a  young  girl  to  Breslau,  by  means  of  a 
forged  letter,  wherein  he  had  given  her  reason  to 
expect  that  she  might  enter  into  the  coming  King- 
dom, in  the  immediate  following  of  Quint,  to  whom 
she  had  previously  become  unconditionally  de- 
voted. Her  maltreated  body  was  later  discover- 
ed not  far  from  Breslau,  and  Quint  was  straight- 
way incarcerated  as  the  seducer  of  the  murdered 
girl.  It  is  true  he  was  abused,  cursed,  and  spat 


160   Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

upon  by  the  angry  crowd.  It  is  true  that  he 
was  accused  falsely,  as  an  enemy  of  society,  the 
State,  and  the  Church,  and,  also,  that  he  answered 
no  word  of  defence — just  as  Christ  had  not  in  the 
presence  of  Pilate.  But  what  a  pitiable  anti- 
climax! How  differently  had  he  pictured  to 
himself  the  manner  and  purpose  of  his  great  sacri- 
fice! His  followers  had  expected  some  remark- 
able supernatural  revelation,  a  miraculous  trans- 
formation. He  had  cherished  the  presentiment 
of  some  wonderful  manner  of  death,  which  should 
come  to  him  out  of  the  great  Unknown.  And 
now  he  was  to  be  convicted  of  a  most  monstrous 
crime,  committed  by  an  unbalanced  outcast;  a 
crime,  of  which  he  was  in  no  wise  capable.  And, 
as  an  end  of  it,  the  body  of  the  murderer  was 
discovered  some  days  later,  hanging  from  a  tree 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  scene  of  the  murder. 
The  "Fool"  was  then  set  free  as  an  harmless 
fanatic,  and  he  wandered  off  without  seeing  a 
friend,  without  leaving  behind  as  much  as  a  ripple 
on  the  surface  of  the  rapidly  flowing  city-life. 

As  if  these  situations,  together  with  numerous 
others  that  invite  the  most  unfavourable  compari- 
son, did  not  sufficiently  indicate  the  niveau  of  this 
poor  imitator  of  Christ,  the  author  has  anticipated 
the  possibility  of  any  misconstruction  of  his 
purpose,  by  the  repeated  use  of  such  terms  as: 
illusion,  delusion,  folly,  erroneous  belief,  self- 
deception,  madness,  frenzy,  and  delirium.  The 
derogatory  expressions  recur  with  striking  fre- 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    161 

quency,  particularly  in  the  second  part  of  the 
novel.  It  seems  almost  as  though  Hauptmann 
wished  to  disclaim  the  responsibility  for  this 
chronicle  of  fools. 

But  still,  even  though  the  author  motivates 
with  such  psychological  nicety  each  step  in  the 
development  of  Emanuel  Quint,  the  "Fool,"  as  a 
fool,  and  criticises  him  freely  as  such,  the  reader 
is  often  moved  to  ask  whether  the  serious  eyes  of 
the  author  himself  are  not  piercing  through  a  mask 
— that  worn  by  his  "Fool,"  whether  there  may 
not  be  something  divine  in  the  madness  of  the 
single-minded  "God  seeker."  We  must  remem- 
ber that  Quint  is  the  hero  of  the  novel  and  one 
who  is  endowed  with  a  strangely  compelling  power, 
both  over  his  companions  and  opponents,  as  well 
as  over  those  who  read  the  -work.  And  we  are 
forced  to  face  the  question,  over  and  over  again: 
Is  not  this  "Fool  in  Christ"  more  a  commentary 
upon  the  Christian  world  to-day  than  upon  the 
hero,  Emanuel  Quint?  Is  Christianity  filled,  as 
was  Quint,  with  such  a  longing  for  the  Kingdom 
that  it  has  "the  courage  to  perform  the  deed  and 
the  death  of  Christ?" 

The  incompatibility  between  the  teaching  of 
Christ  and  the  Christian  era — the  incompatibility 
which  made  Emanuel  an  outcast,  a  stranger  in  his 
world,  a  fool — is  strikingly  denoted  in  the  argu- 
ment between  an  "  enlightened  "  young  physician 
and  Quint.  The  latter  had  remarked  that  the 


162   Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

"secret  of  the  kingdom,  the  mustard  seed  in  the 
ground  of  mankind  was  unselfishness."  He 
continued:  "Love  your  enemies;  bless  those  who 
curse  you;  do  well  to  such  as  accuse  you  falsely 
and  persecute  you." 

In  reply,  the  physician  asserted  that  progress, 
the  State,  culture  could  not  possibly  be  founded 
upon  unselfishness. 

Struggle,  selfishness  are  the  most  powerful  motives. 
Christianity  has  brought  about,  accordingly,  in  these 
two  thousand  years  only  hypocrisy  and  has  resulted 
in  a  tremendous  fiasco.  The  world  is  supported  by 
selfishness;  the  nations  are  maintained  through  sel- 
fishness; all  of  the  important  and  the  unimportant 
actions  of  men  are  dictated  and  inspired  by  selfishness. 
— The  most  sterile  of  all  principles  [he  continued]  is 
unselfishness;  for  whoever  wishes  to  realise  this  ideal 
really  and  consistently,  would  have  to  withdraw  from 
all  the  scenes  of  life,  in  order  to  attain  peace  at  any 
price;  indeed  he  would  have  to  withdraw  from  life 
itself. 

Quint  answered  simply:  "Kill  selfishness  and, 
if  it  cannot  be  otherwise,  kill  thyself.  For  whoso- 
ever loveth  his  life  shall  lose  it,  and  whosoever 
doth  not  love  his  life,  I  say  unto  you,  he  shall 
save  it." 

Not  alone  in  argument  does  the  novelist  present 
the  direct  contrast  between  the  doctrines  of  self- 
ishness and  selflessness,  but  also  through  the 
medium  of  contrasting  characters.  Toward  the 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    163 

end  of  his  career,  one  perceives  Emanuel  Quint 
sitting  in  a  squalid  room  of  a  squalid  inn.  In  a 
moment  of  passing  popularity,  many  adherents  of 
the  creed  outlined  above  by  the  physician,  seek 
out  the  "Fool  in  Christ,"  that  they  may  learn  of 
him  the  secret  of  life.  People  of  property,  of 
position,  and  of  power  pass  by  him  one  by  one. 
Their  silken  garments  rustle,  their  jewels  sparkle, 
their  uniforms  are  gay  with  colour;  but  inwardly, 
what  a  world  of  care,  distress,  misery,  sin,  do  they 
disclose  to  the  poor,  unschooled  Emanuel!  What 
submissiveness,  what  fear,  and  what  cowardice 
is  unveiled  to  his  eyes!  How  unutterably  empty 
are  these  lives,  except  as  they  are  filled  with  bread- 
lust,  money-lust,  the  lust  of  flesh,  or  the  lust  of 
renown!  It  seemed  to  him  that  they  were  but 
paltry,  inert  parts  of  the  great  machine  of  Moloch, 
without  inner  purpose  and  without  inner  life. 
He  bade  them  bless,  love,  give,  and  forgive.  He 
called  them  to  become  perfect  as  God  was  perfect. 
But  he  was  well  aware  that  they  little  understood 
the  portent  of  these  words,  that  the  true  calling 
of  man  is  to  be  perfect  like  unto  God.  Still,  he 
hoped,  where  there  was  nothing  to  hope,  confident 
that  the  time  would  ultimately  come  when  "the 
earth,  now  degraded  by  servile  parasites,  would 
be  peopled  by  the  sons  and  daughters  of  God." 
The  reader  realises,  again,  that  Hauptmann's 
"Fool"  is  also  his  hero,  when  the  latter  denounces 
the  churches  for  their  insistence  upon  dogma,  upon 
the  Christ  martyred  and  crucified.  He  assured 


164   Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

his  hearers  that  Christ  is  alive  and  makes  alive,  to 
be  sought  neither  on  the  cross  nor  in  the  grave,  but 
in  the  hearts  of  all  who  love  Him.  His  Christian- 
ity is  a  Christianity  of  spirit,  not  of  things.  His 
God  is  a  God  of  Love  and  Light,  who  knows  neither 
justice  nor  injustice,  who  is  not  distant  from  man- 
kind, but  here  and  now  and  within  all  the  children 
of  men. 

Likewise,  it  is  the  author's  hero  who  denounces 
the  law — the  law  that  has  perpetuated  bitterness, 
curses,  hate,  sin,  murder,  and  death. 

Think  ye  [he  cries  forth]  that  the  Saviour  will 
bless  your  courts  and  the  lips  of  your  judges,  who 
pronounce  injustice  according  to  dead  words,  who 
requite  evil  with  evil,  hate  with  hate  — how  different 
from  God! — who  deliver  the  sinner  over  to  prison, 
the  axe,  the  rope,  to  death !  Think  ye,  that  Jesus  will 
bless  the  work  of  your  hangmen,  the  walls  of  your 
prisons,  the  blocks  of  your  executioners?  Think  ye 
that  He  will  give  the  palm  of  eternal  peace  to  your 
attorney  s-at-law  ? 

Thus,  the  light  shining  through  the  eyes  of  the 
simple,  child-like  "Fool"  illumines  the  complex 
world  about  us;  the  institutions  and  the  popular 
tendencies  of  the  time,  such  as  the  Salvation  Army, 
Social  Democracy,  materialism,  and  intellectual 
skepticism.  We  perceive  them,  each  and  all, 
in  the  relationship  they  bear  to  the  Kingdom  of 
God — the  one  great  reality  in  the  eyes  of  Eman- 
uel  Quint.  The  little,  circumscribed,  poverty- 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    165 

stricken  corner  of  mountainous  Silesia  becomes 
the  world  and  encompasses  modern  life.  To  the 
heart-cry  of  our  time:  "How  may  I  be  saved?" 
"Wherein  consists  happiness?"  "What  is  the 
secret  of  the  Kingdom?"  comes  the  time-worn 
answer  with  a  personal  and  penetrating  intonation : 
' '  Take  up  thy  cross  and  follow  me. "... 

To  conclude  the  story,  Hauptmann  briefly 
records  the  wanderings  of  the  liberated  Quint- 
he  tramps  from  Berlin  to  Frankfurt  and  then  into 
the  mountains  of  Switzerland.  The  papers  of 
various  cities  report  the  presence  of  a  strange, 
demented  person,  who  asks  only  for  a  bit  of  bread 
and  a  night's  lodging.  When  asked  who  he  is,  he 
answers  simply,  "Christ."  This  answer  invari- 
ably causes  the  door  to  be  slammed  in  his  face. 
Then  the  wanderer  disappears  entirely.  In  the 
spring,  when  the  mountain  snows  give  up  their 
booty,  the  frozen  body  of  the  wandering  "Christ" 
is  discovered.  There  is  found  in  his  pocket  only  a 
scrap  of  paper,  upon  which  was  scribbled  the 
question:  "The  secret  of  the  Kingdom?" 

The  author's  concluding  comments  are  two  in 
number:  one  is  an  expression  of  thanks;  the  other, 
an  hypothetical  question;  but  in  neither  does  he 
forget  to  show  an  inscrutable,  impersonal  mask, 
that  bears  just  the  slightest  suggestion  of  an  ironi- 
cal smile. 

Involuntarily  one  thanks  heaven  [he  writes],  that 
the  wanderer  was  only  a  poor  fool  of  this  world,  and 


i66   Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

not  Christ  Himself.  For  in  the  latter  case,  hundreds 
of  Catholic  and  Protestant  ministers,  working-men, 
officials,  merchants,  bishops,  nobles,  and  citizens,  in 
short,  innumerable  devout  Christians,  would  have 
taken  upon  themselves  the  curse  of  damnation.  But 
[and  he  raises  the  question,  apparently  as  an  after- 
thought] how  was  one  finally  to  know  whether  it  was 
not  the  veritable  Saviour,  who,  in  the  disguise  of  a  poor 
fool,  wanted  to  determine  in  how  far  His  seed,  sown 
of  God,  the  seed  of  the  Kingdom,  had  ripened  in  the 
meantime.  Then  [the  author  concludes]  Christ 
would  have  been  able  to  report  to  His  Father  only 
this,  that  wherever  He  had  gone  the  door  had  al- 
ways been  slammed  in  His  face. 

Strikingly  enough,  a  prominent  French  author 
published  a  novel1  at  practically  the  same  time 
as  Hauptmann,  in  which  he  approaches  precisely 
the  same  theme — the  modern  Christian  world  in 
its  relationship  to  the  spirit  of  Jesus  Christ.  The 
work  is  entitled  He  is  Risen  and  portrays,  not  a 
follower  of  Christ  embued  with  His  spirit  and 
renewing  His  life  and  messsage,  but  Christ  Him- 
self, as  though  returned  to  Paris  in  December, 
1910.  It  is  a  bold  and  vividly  conceived  indict- 
ment of  the  standards  and  ambitions  holding  to- 
day in  business  and  social  life  and  in  the  world 
of  thought.  The  basis  of  -  the  indictment  is  the 
unchanged  message  of  Christ.  He  takes  no 
cognisance  of  progress  nor  discoveries  nor  inven- 

1  Charles  Morice,  //  est  ressuscitt,  Troisi&me  Edition,  Paris, 
1911. 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    167 

tions.  "My  work  is  achieved  for  all  eternity," 
He  says. 

But  Paris  has  no  room  for  the  risen  Christ. 
Through  the  contagious  influence  of  His  presence, 
evident  weeks  before  His  arrival,  virtue  and 
morality  have  become  so  perniciously  epidemic 
that  all  business  and  social  life  are  at  a  standstill. 
There  are  no  transactions  on  the  exchange,  on 
account  of  the  prevailing  honesty  of  brokers  and 
bankers;  no  sales  in  the  bazaars,  because  of  the 
absence  of  all  luxury;  no  moral  excess,  because  of 
the  general  esteem  in  which  woman  is  held  and  of 
a  renewed  appreciation  of  the  meaning  of  love. 

France  has  become  virtuous,  it  is  true,  but  it 
has  become  proportionately  miserable.  Such 
conditions  clearly  cannot  last.  Such  moral 
heroism  is  artificial  and  cannot  be  durable.  Man 
is  not  a  saint  and  is  not  perfect.  In  short,  Christ 
is  not  at  home  with  us.  "We  can  no  more  live 
in  His  shadow  than  He  in  ours, "  the  chief  charac- 
ter avers.  "We  see  the  'folly  of  His  cross'  too 
clearly  by  the  light  of  our  reason. " 

The  solution  of  the  problem  is  that  the  Prefect 
of  Police,  who  has  begun  to  despair  for  the  wel- 
fare of  the  country,  on  account  of  the  increasing 
stagnation  in  the  business  and  industrial  world, 
approaches  Jesus  and  indicates  the  desirability 
of  His  quitting  Paris  and  France  in  the  shortest 
time  possible.  Jesus  smiles  and  answers:  "I  am 
used  to  that.  Once  before,  when  I  sent  some 
devils  into  a  herd  of  swine  and  they  ran  down  a 


i68  Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ" 

steep  place  into  the  sea,  I  was  asked  to  leave." 
The  chief  medium  of  the  author  of  He  is  Risen 
is  a  gifted  reporter  of  literary  ability  and  philo- 
sophical schooling.  It  is  he  who  after  much 
honest  communing  with  himself  speaks  of  the 
''folly  of  the  cross"  and  comes  to  the  conclusion 
that  modern  life  calls  one  away  from,  if  not  against 
Christ.  I  am  tempted  to  compare  the  solilo- 
quising Narda,  the  reporter,  to  Hauptmann,  the 
man,  the  creator  of  the  novel  just  considered. 
Each  is  faithfully  seeking  to  harmonise  the  com- 
mand to  become  Christ-like,  perfect  like  unto  the 
Father  in  Heaven,  with  the  apparent  limitations 
of  human,  and,  specifically,  modern  life. 

Narda  admits  the  promise  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  upon  earth;  but,  feeling  that  its  realisa- 
tion requires  perfection,  presupposes  God-men,  he 
wearily  turns  to  his  manuscripts  and  brochures, 
deeply  conscious  that  this  cannot  be  for  him. 
And  Christ  is  subsequently  expelled  from  Paris, 
for  His  Kingdom  is  not  of  this  world.  Haupt- 
mann, not  the  philosopher,  but  the  visualising 
artist,  chronicles  the  life  of  Emanuel  Quint — on  a 
descending  scale.  His  hero  is  unable  to  triumph- 
antly assert  his  hopes  and  beliefs  in  the  face  of  the 
opposition  of  the  world.  Instead  of  confident 
affirmation,  leading  to  ultimate  victory — even  the 
victory  of  the  cross — Emanuel  wanders,  drifts 
about,  waiting  for  some  indefinite  consummation  of 
his  dreams  and  then  closes  his  career  with  a  point 
of  interrogation.  His  victory  is  the  victory  of  a 


Hauptmann's  "The  Fool  in  Christ"    169 

fool.  The  great  promise  of  the  growing  Emanuel 
is  not  fulfilled  in  the  matured  leader.  His  message, 
his  vision,  his  power  do  not  suffice  to  overcome 
the  obstacles  of  his  environment  and  heritage. 
He  who,  in  the  early  part  of  the  novel,  bore  the 
imprint  of  an  inspired  Son  of  the  Spirit  upon  his 
forehead,  is  excused,  is  pitied,  and  is  even  denied 
by  the  author,  who  brands  him  a  "fool." 

The  reason  that  Hauptmann  wrote  The  Fool  in 
Christ  and  not  the  "Hero  in  Christ"  is,  that  the 
time  is  not  yet  ripe  for  the  Christ  Triumphant. 
The  reason  that  the  reporter,  Narda,  together 
with  his  fellow-citizens  sighed  a  mighty  sigh  of 
relief  at  the  departure  of  Christ  from  Paris,  is 
that  the  time  is  not  yet  ripe  for  the  Christ  Risen. 
The  Christian  age  has  heard  Christ's  message 
from  childhood.  All  that  Christ  preaches,  it 
knows  and  knows  full  well,  but  it  must  know  it 
differently;  "It  must  have  thought  it  in  its  own 
heart" — as  Narda  expresses  it — before  the  dis- 
tinctively Christian  era  is  to  dawn,  before  the 
modern  Christ  epic  is  to  be  written.  For,  as  was 
stated  in  the  Introduction,  the  poet's  as  well  as 
the  prophet's  vision,  is  conditioned  by  the  per- 
spective of  his  own  time. 


CONCLUSION 

JUST  the  theme  projected  in  The  Anti-Christ 
by  Selma  Lagerlof  has  been  one  of  the  under- 
lying thoughts  in  our  considerations.  In  the 
interests  of  the  body  and  the  raiment  or,  as  the 
outraged  priest  puts  it:  "lottery  tickets  and  good 
years  and  daily  bread  and  health  and  money," 
the  essential  matters  of  life  have  been  overlooked 
or  even  denied.  Rudolf  Eucken  sees  in  the 
triumph  of  man  over  his  environment,  the  ever 
advancing  subordination  of  natural  forces,  and  the 
general  betterment  of  social  conditions,  an  ex- 
pansion of  life;  but  he  notes,  too,  the  absence 
of  a  corresponding  and  adequate  concentration. 
There  are  many  sorts  of  outward  activity,  he  adds, 
which  demand  concentrated  attention,  the  full 
power  of  will  and  intellect,  but  no  whit  further 
insight  into  and  comprehension  of  the  spiritual 
laws  upon  which  all  true  personality  and  indi- 
viduality are  built.1 

That  the  leaders  of  literature  are  so  generally 
dealing  with  just  this  phase  of  life  is  one  of  the 
most  significant  and  hopeful  signs  of  the  time. 
That  so  many  of  them  are  inspired  by  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  is  even  more  significant, 2  for  He  stands 

1  Rudolf  Eucken,  Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens,  p.  147  f. 
3Cf .  Appendix. 

170 


Conclusion  171 

forth  pre-eminent  in  history  as  the  embodiment  of 
spiritual  values.  Although  certain  traditional 
or  even  newly-evolved  dogmas  do  not  attach 
themselves  to  the  treatment  of  His  character  in 
the  so-called  "regenerative"  or  Christianising 
novels  and  dramas,  nevertheless,  the  main  direc- 
tive is  given.  This  is  a  sufficiently  significant 
contribution  in  a  time  which  is  branded  by  friend 
and  foe  as  materialistic;  and  especially,  when 
even  recognised  spiritual  leaders  are  at  variance 
concerning  the  essential  and  non-essential  values. 
Maeterlinck,  one  of  the  most  truly  representative 
men  in  European  letters  and  thought,  begins  a 
recent  essay  with  the  following  words: 

A  large  portion  of  mankind  is  gradually  forsaking 
the  religion  in  which  it  has  lived  for  nearly  twenty 
centuries.  For  a  religion  to  become  extinct  is  no 
new  thing.  But,  until  now,  men  passed  from  a 
crumbling  temple  into  one  that  was  building.  They 
left  one  religion  to  enter  another;  whereas  we  are 
abandoning  ours  to  go  nowhither. 

It  may  be  that  the  poet,  Goethe,  was  seeing 
with  a  seer's  eyes,  above  and  beyond  the  inter- 
mittent periods  of  transition  and  attendant  con- 
fusion, when  he — eleven  days  before  his  death- 
expressed  his  conviction  concerning  the  unsur- 
passed and  unsurpassable  dignity  and  moral 
worth  of  Christianity.  He  predicted  the  passing 
away  of  sects  and  divisions,  in  anticipation  of  the 
time  when  man  should  attain  his  true  greatness 


172  Conclusion 

and  freedom  through  having  fully  comprehended 
and  inwardly  experienced  the  pure  teaching  and 
love  of  Jesus  Christ.  "And  we  shall  also,"  he 
continued,  according  to  Eckermann's  report,1 
"gradually  depart  from  a  Christianity  of  word 
and  belief  and  come  more  and  more  to  a  Chris- 
tianity of  temper  and  of  deed. "  If  current  litera- 
ture veritably  has  index  value,  the  conclusion  is 
justified  that  Maeterlinck's  "nowhither"  may  be 
struck  out  and  in  its  stead  inserted  "a  Christianity 
of  temper  and  of  deed,"  a  Christianity  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

We  may  assume  then,  that  the  perfect  poet-and- 
prophet-to-be  will  gain  the  insight  requisite  to 
divine  that  sublimate  of  Christ's  life  which  will 
transform  and  crystallise  the  conflicting  forces 
of  modern  conditions,  so  that  religion  may  come 
to  assume  its  rightful  place  at  the  control-centre 
of  human  activity  and  striving.  Christ  has 
taught  the  oneness  of  God's  purpose  and  that  of 
man,  and,  if  the  signs  of  the  time  do  not  deceive, 
the  eyes  of  men  are  gradually  turning  in  the  direc- 
tion from  which  may  come  that  infusion  of  all 
human  conditions  and  institutions  with  God-life 
and  God-purpose  which  is  and  has  always  been 
the  promise  of  the  Christianity  of  Christ. 

Such  an  infusion,  such  a  "Christianity  of  temper 
and  of  deed, "  has  been  foretold  by  the  author  of 
The  Shadow-Christ  *  in  the  words: 

'Of  March   u,   1832. 
»G.  S.  Lee,  p.  ii9,f. 


Conclusion  173 

His  name  shall  be  upon  thy  forehead.  The  spirit 
in  thine  eyes  shall  be  to  Him  for  a  name.  Its  secret 
shall  be  life.  A  prophet  shall  be  the  world  itself. 
He  shall  be  a  conviction.  He  shall  be  a  habit  among 
the  sons  of  men. 


APPENDIX 

FOR  the  purpose  of  indicating  that  the  group  of 
works  discussed  above  has  indisputably  a 
representative  character  and  is,  thus,  of  symptomatic 
significance,  a  list  of  novels  and  dramas  which  properly 
belong  to  the  "Christward"  trend  in  very  recent 
literature  is  appended.  Only  such  authors  are  cited 
as  enjoy  an  established  reputation  at  home  and,  in 
the  majority  of  cases,  abroad  as  well. 

Those  works  are  included  in  the  first  group  which 
deal  directly  or  indirectly  with  the  personality  of 
Christ  in  its  historical  setting,  or  with  the  Christ 
regenerate;  in  the  second  group  appear  such  as  embody 
the  specifically  Christ-like  spirit  and  bear  direct 
testimony  to  the  influence  of  his  personality. 

GROUP  I.       Max  Kretzer:  Das  Gesicht  Christi,  1897. 
Selma   Lagerlof:  Christuslegenden. 
Marguerite  Allotte  de  la  Fuye:  Le  Maitre 

de  la  Mort,  Paris,  1907. 
Paul  Heyse :  Maria  von  Magdala. 
Maurice  Maeterlinck:  Maria  Magdalena, 

1910. 
Th.  Cheze:  Myriam  de  Magdala,  Paris, 

1903. 
Charles  Morice:  II  est  ressusciUl    Paris, 

1911. 
Bernhard  Kellerman:  Der  Tor,   Berlin, 

1908. 


Appendix  175 

HallCaine:  The  White  Prophet,  D.  Ap- 
pleton  &  Company,  1910. 

Elsa  Barker:  The  Son  of  Mary  Bethel, 
Duffield  &  Company. 

GROUP  II.  E.  von  Handel- Mazzetti:  Die  arme  Mar- 
garete,  1909;  Jesse  und  Maria,  1906. 

Jerome  K.  Jerome:  The  Passing  of  the 
Third  Floor  Back. 

Edward  B.  Sheldon:  Salvation  Nell. 

Henri  Davignon:  La  Nouvelle  Idole,  1910. 

Begbie:  The  Vigil. 

William  Vaughn  Moody:  The  Faith 
Healer. 

Mrs.  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett:  The 
Dawn  of  To-morrow. 

Charles  Klein:  The  Daughters  of  Men. 

August  Strindberg :  Ostern  (Easter,  trans- 
lated from  the  Swedish  into  German) 
E.  Pierson's  Verlag,  Dresden  und 
Leipsig,  1910. 

Josephine  Preston  Peabody:  The  Piper. 


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